Death Becomes Him
by Mediancat
Summary: An alternate universe tale, breaking off at the end of An Echolls Family Christmas. The starting point is: what if the security guard who tried to block Keith's entrance had been a little more on the ball?
1. Chapter 1

-1I've seen dead bodies before. Sad that a 17-year old girl can say that, but it's true.

I've never been front row watching a live body become a dead one, though.

The victim in question? One Aaron Echolls. The location? His Christmas party, actually held a week or so before the actual holiday.

Yeah, that Aaron Echolls. The actor. I'm sure you've read the breathless tabloid accounts of his sordid life and gory death by now -- and if you haven't, pass me the location of the deserted island you're staying on because I may need to go there myself at some point. Unless you flew there via Transoceanic. But I digress.

See, Dad had been trying to figure out who was stalking Aaron Echolls -- which could have been any one of several women. Unfortunately, he figured out just a bit too late who it was.

Wait a minute. That's not fair to my dad. He'd figured it out in plenty of time. But the anal security guards at the Christmas party hadn't let him in. They were trying to throw him off the property when they heard the screaming.

Of all people, Logan tackled the woman -- but not before she'd stabbed him twice, once around the kidneys and once straight through the heart. Lynn Echolls frantically called for an ambulance, but it was too late -- they said later he was probably dead before he hit the floor.

To add to the Twilight Zone-iness of the evening, a group of Christmas carolers hired by Lynn Echolls were in the middle of singing when all this happened, and no one actually got around to telling them to stop. So we all were dazedly hovering around a dead body while from outside came the dulcet tones of "God Rest Ye Merry, Gentlemen.

But no one was going to be doing any resting in Neptune that night.

XXXXX

The funeral was held a couple of days later. They say it was a hell of a show -- half of Hollywood showed up along with their camera crews, it seems, as well as the Governor of California. Not surprising to me in the least that Trina Echolls had arranged the whole thing; I wouldn't have been surprised if she'd done it just so she could pass around business cards.

Dad showed up. I didn't; I was busy at that point digging up dirt on the parents of Neptune, and hitting an odd bump in the road when it came to my friend Mac. Turns out she and Madison Sinclair had actually been switched at birth.

The Echolls family didn't seem to blame him. Logan, apparently, wasn't really aware of what was going on, and Lynn seemed too numb to care about it. Dad was stunned when Lynn started writing a check there, on the spot; Dad had to accept it, not wanting to start a big scene, but quietly ripped it up later. He didn't feel he'd earned it.

In the meantime, Trina gave one of the most unbelievable eulogies. (Lynn passed.) I mean, Aaron Echolls was no psychotic -- just a guy, apparently, who had a hard time keeping it in his pants -- but from Trina's description you would have thought the man healed the sick and parted seas in his spare time. And of course, she was sad he was gone, but she would do her best to carry on the Echolls family acting tradition . . .

Then it was Logan's turn.

"Trina, as usual, you've outdone yourself," he started. She smiled. "Turning our father's funeral into a way to shill for your own career -- good move." Her smile vanished. "Now," he went on, "You've just heard about what a great father Aaron Echolls was. What a good man he was. What a --" he looked at his mother, who gazed blankly back -- "fine husband he was. And -- and every word was true."

Dad then noticed Lynn's expression waver for the first time.

Logan went on. "In the next few weeks you'll be reading stories about my Dad's affairs with hundreds of different women, or his loveless marriages, or how he beat me bloody with a belt on a regular basis whenever he was in the mood. Don't listen to any of it. That's not the Aaron Echolls you knew."

It seemed to satisfy Lynn Echolls. When Logan sat down again next to her, she squeezed his hand and smiled, briefly.

It didn't satisfy Dad, though it wasn't like there was anything he could or would do about it. His finely honed BS detector knew that there was more to the story than that.

So, for that matter, did I -- at least, I knew that Logan disliked his father intensely, and I wouldn't have thought "diplomacy" was even in his vocabulary.

But I guess I was wrong. It seems that death became Aaron Echolls.


	2. Chapter 2

Thanks for the reviews so far, folks – and I suppose I should let you know that, while there may be a Logan/Veronica hookup somewhere along the way, it's not the main thrust of my fic. I don't write romance very well.

I suppose I also need to disclaim ownership of the characters and say that they're Rob Thomas'. See Mediancat disclaim. Disclaim, Mediancat, disclaim.

X X X X X

Sandwiched around the Echolls funeral, Dad had been helping the Neptune sheriff's department track down a serial killer. Yeah, there's a marriage made in hell for you. But it worked; the bad guy was taken off the streets, Dad got paid, and Don Lamb got to take most of the credit.

In the meantime, Logan had taken some time off school to run interference for his mother, who had holed up on the Echolls estate and was not seeing visitors. This kind of ticked off the mob of reporters clustered at the gate, but they quickly learned that without Aaron Echolls and his lust for publicity around, Logan had absolutely no compunctions about dealing with them his own way.

"His own way" included physical confrontations and verbal abuse. Pretty much par for the course with Logan Echolls, but in this case I kind of sympathized with him. Dad faced his share of nosy reporters when as sheriff he "botched" the Lilly Kane murder investigation and had been summarily booted from office and replaced by Lamb.

(Recalling Dad for incompetence and swapping in Don Lamb is kind of like firing a basketball player for blowing a few shots and replacing him with Gary Coleman.)

In any event, Logan wasn't at school, Lynn was doing her impression of a turtle in its shell, and Trina had hit the rounds of the talk shows. Last night she was on Larry King Live. This morning, the Today Show. When she got to talking about the movie she was trying to get made about her Dad's life I flipped it off.

That afternoon, I was sitting at the desk of Mars Investigations working on some calculus homework when I got a surprising phone call. Dad was busy tracking down a bail jumper from San Francisco, but for once it was a local job so he was sleeping home nights.

"Mars Investigations," I said cheerily. (Get that smirk off your face. I can fake cheery. I used to be on the pep squad, remember?)

"Veronica?" comes Logan's voice. "I need a favor."

"Is this a favor favor, or an I'll pay you favor?"

"I'll pay you. Whatever your Dad's going rate is." Wow, two sentences in and he hasn't taken one shot at me. This must be serious.

"$250 a day, plus expenses. What is it?" If he's going to be businesslike, I'm going to be businesslike.

"You've heard about this pack of vultures hovering over my father's corpse?"

"I've also heard that your way of dealing with them so far involves insults and repeated blows to the head."

Logan sighed and said irritably, "Look, Mars –"

"Hold on. No insult intended. Really. Just wanted to say that blows to the head might not the most effective way of dealing with the situation. You might want to hit them somewhere not made of solid granite."

He actually laughed at that one. Then he said, "I came to that conclusion myself. That's why I'm calling."

"You want me to hit them?" I asked incredulously.

"Don't sell yourself short, Mars. I've seen you use that taser." Then he got serious again. "No, I want you to find some way to distract them. Get them away from here. I want to sneak my Mom off the estate somewhere they're not going to be able to find her for a while. And you're the best person I can think of for the job."

"An actual compliment from Logan Echolls? Did the world come to an end while I wasn't looking?" It just slipped out. I swear.

"I can't think of anyone sneakier, more deceitful or Machiavellian. There. That live up to your expectations?"

"Absolutely. Hey, why aren't you calling the Neptune Police Department? Sheriff Lamb would bend over or kneel for most 09'ers."

Sighing again, Logan said, "Yeah, right. Lamb's a buffoon. And he hates me anyway. And according to this one deputy they're worried about lawsuits and the ACLU storming into town. They hauled off the one reporter who got onto the estate but otherwise there's nothing they can do. So, Ma—So, Veronica. You up for it?"

What the hell. We could use the money – and I liked the feeling of having Logan Echolls in my power for once. "Sure," I said. "I'll get right on it. First thing I'm going to need is a dead cow."

"A dead cow?"

"What else would you use to distract vultures?"

"Daddy Dearest left a pretty big corpse, Mars. I think you'll need at least a Minke whale." And there was more proof, as if I'd needed it, that Logan's public defense of Aaron Echolls had been just that: A public defense. And as Logan's never given a good goddamn about his own reputation, or his father's, for that matter, it had to have been to protect his mother. "Check the phonebook," he went on. "Look under "Ahab."

Now it was my turn to laugh. "I'll see what I can do. Word of warning: You may need to hustle her out of there at a moment's notice. Keep your eyes open."

"Aye-aye, cap'n. Echolls out." And he hung up.

So. What _did_ one use to lure away reporters . . .?


	3. Chapter 3

For whatever it's worth, my AU policy has always been -- in this and the other fanfics I've written, in the Buffyverse -- to change one event and to see where it flows from there, logically. I'm a little reluctant to try to force things to go the way I want them to go.

Obligatory disclaimer: 'tain't mine.

X X X X X

I finished up my homework, waited around for any other phone calls -- getting exactly zero -- and headed home. I went to take Backup for a walk and when we got back twenty minutes later --

"Dad?" I asked as I opened the door.

He had that look on his face. You know the one. The one of the cat who ate not only the canary, but the budgie, the macaw, and is doing its damnedest to finish off the guinea pig. He picked me up and hugged me, then did his patented Keith Mars dance of victory. "Mr. Todd Vanetti was sitting in his tent in the campgrounds at the edge of Neptune," Dad said. "He never saw me coming."

"They never do," I said, grinning.

"Damn right they never do!" He shouted. "Put on your fancy duds, sweetheart," he added, doing the worst imitation of Humphrey Bogart you've ever heard in your life. "We're eatin' lobster tonight!"

Over dinner at Ocean Pride -- I actually got myself some shrimp scampi, but Dad, true to his word, was plowing his way through a sizeable lobster -- I brought up the reporters hovering around the Echolls estate.

"How long do you think they'll be there?" I asked innocently.

Dad wasn't buying it. He never does. "Not like you to be so interested in such things, Veronica."

"I was just wondering," I said. "What could distract them?"

"Well, they'll all go away eventually, given enough time."

"Assume time isn't something you have a lot of."

"Well, then," Dad said. "The only thing I can think of is a bigger news story. Unless someone started shooting at them." He looked at me sternly. "Don't start shooting at them."

"Wasn't even thinking about it." Weevil? Certainly the appearance of a biker gang roaring towards the reporters might panic a few of them, especially if they stopped and started making threats, but the odds of Weevil voluntarily helping Logan Echolls do anything were less than the odds of Dick Casablancas saying something intelligent.

Okay, so no odds were that bad. But still.

I went on, "What kind of bigger news story?"

"I'll keep playing along," he said after he finished another bite of the lobster. "Sure you don't want any?" I shook my head no. "Your loss," he said, happily cutting another piece. "At this point, the only thing I can see topping the stabbing death of a major movie star would be a high-level political assassination, another war, a major natural disaster, or an alien invasion." Well, damn. I mean, I'm good, but even I can't rustle one of those up on a moment's notice.

Nor would I want to. There are limits to the lengths I'm willing to go.

"Veronica? What's this all about?" Dad asked.

I explained how Logan had hired me to clear the reporters away from the Echolls house so that he could sneak his mother away. "But if distracting them's out, I'll have to think of something else."

He relaxed. "That doesn't sound particularly dangerous. And I have faith that you will not, in fact, arrange for aliens to invade our fair city."

"Though parts of it could probably stand a good phasering."

We finished our dinner and the subject of distracting the reporters was back-burnered for a while.

So distracting them's out, and violence is out. What's left?

X X X X X

I thought about that night but hadn't really come up with any viable solutions by the time I drove the LeBaron to school the next morning. I bounced a couple of suggestions off Wallace that night but he shot them both down. It was getting so I was seriously considering trying to find where I could rent a couple of Klingons.

There was a logjam of cars entering the parking lot, for some reas – well. Of course. Dick Casablancas was showing off a new surfboard to a bunch of his friends, doing some moves in the middle of the parking lot, never mind the fact that there were seven cars waiting to try to get past him. (None of them were '09er cars, of course. Not a car from the last four years in the line, except for Mac's.)

I took the key out of the ignition and walked over to where Dick was perched.

"Hi, Dick," I said cheerily.

He looked at me. "Veronica Mars. Wow. I didn't realize the petting zoo was coming to school today." He laughed as though he'd just told the funniest joke in the world. Around him, his friends laughed. Only Cassidy Casablancas had the grace to look embarrassed.

I made a production of looking at his forehead. "What are you doing?"

"Wow, Dick, I'm impressed. You can barely see the lobotomy scars." Cassidy chuckled but was quickly silenced by glares all around. "Now look. You see all those vehicles over there?" I gestured towards the line, which was now fifteen cars long. "They didn't come to see your killer moves."

"They should have," he said.

"And if you want to see some of _my_ killer moves, just keep blocking traffic."

"You couldn't take me," he sneered.

"I wouldn't take you if you came free with a Happymeal. Now move the board."

He held up his hands. "Whatever, Miss Buzzkill," but he took the board and got out of the way.

I dashed back to my car so I wouldn't be the one holding up traffic and I parked.

Despite the hassles of having to deal with Dick, though, I was actually happy I'd had the confrontation.

I now knew how I was going to deal with the reporters.


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: _n._ A repudiation or denial of responsibility or connection.

Not mine: Rob Thomas'.

X X X X X

No, my idea had nothing to do with Dick or his surfboard. Though I would like to crush that thing. Maybe someday . . .

Anyway. Enough with the daydreaming and on to class.

I called Logan in between second and third periods. After a perfunctory exchange of greetings, I got down to business. "How long does it take you to get out to the main road in that monstrosity you drive?"

"0-60 in 6.6 seconds," he said. "And at least my vehicle is held together by more than spit and chewing gum."

"True; it's got that garish yellow paint job. That's not quite what I was aiming for."

"Fast enough. The gate opens by remote. But I've already thought about trying it that way. I'm fast, but I'm not fast enough to completely lose the vultures. They'd see where I was going."

"Not necessarily." And I explained what I was thinking.

"Think you can pull it off, Mars?" he asked when I was done.

"Logan!" I said in mock exasperation. "Am I not the most devious, underhanded and Machiavellian person you know?"

"Far and away."

A moment of hesitation. "Are you sure you want me using the car with the garish yellow paint job?"

"Yup. It wouldn't work otherwise. You're just going to have to trust me on this."

"Me trusting you. There's an alien concept." I sighed. Just when it looked like, maybe, Logan Echolls was turning the corner back to humanity again – He went on. "But it's one I'm going to have to get used to, I guess. Go to town."

"I'll let you know when we have everything set up."

"Yes boss, whatever you say, boss." And he hung up.

The thing is, while I have described Logan on more than one occasion as Neptune's Obligatory Psychotic Jackass, he wasn't always like that. Oh sure, he could always be a bit of a jerk, but he never crossed the line to downright abusive until after Lilly's death. I never did figure out why.

And I wouldn't mind if our relationship could go back towards being, at least, civil. I doubted we'd ever be friends again, but I could use fewer enemies.

Anyway. Back to class.

Then there was someone else I needed to talk to.

And lo and behold, there she was at lunch. I excused myself from Wallace's company for a second and ran after her.

"Mac!" I said.

She turned and looked up at me. "Veronica. What do you need?"

"Why do you think I need something?"

"You're being enthusiastic," she said. "You're only enthusiastic when you're in the middle of some scheme or you need a favor." I must have looked a bit hurt, because she said. "Relax. You come up to me often enough at other times, too. I know you're not just using me."

I smiled. "Good to hear. Anyway –"

"What do you need me to hack into?" She asked.

"Nothing, actually. Here's what I need –"

X X X X X

It had taken a bit of persuasion – "I'm not action girl like you are," Mac had said – but eventually she'd gone along with it. For a price.

Wallace was game, too. "You really think just the two of you are going to be able to pull this off? Girl, you may be big in attitude but in real life you're kinda puny."

"It's more than the two of us," I said, growling, but I appreciated the moral support. On my way back to class I made another phone call.

When school got out, I collected Wallace and Mac and drove over to the Echolls house.

They came to the front end of the row of reporter's cars and vans parked alongside the road. It was a two-lane road with a fairly high curb. Mac parked on one side of the road at the head of the row, Wallace and me at the other.

I nodded to Mac and called Logan. "Anytime you're ready."

"We'll be down in a couple of minutes."

True to his word, two minutes later Logan came tearing down the street in his XTerra like he was being chased by every demon ever to appear on _Buffy_; Lynn was right next to him.

That was all I had a chance to see before they were too far away.

Ten seconds later a mob of reporters came tearing down the Echolls driveway and raced to get in their cars.

Mac and I pulled out before any of them could, me first, her right behind me --

Going approximately 15 miles per hour.

We got horn honks, then angry curses, but we didn't go any faster. We were just two cars out enjoying a nice leisurely weekday drive.

And no one could pull around us, either by going into the other lane (illegal, and dangerous -- especially with _two_ cars in front of them -- and besides, there were a couple of cars coming the other way) or by jumping the curb (stupid with anything less than a full-sized Hummer).

Along the way we passed a car stopped by the side of the road; the occupants seemed okay, and the driver smiled as we drove past.

By the time we came to the stop sign, Logan had had a good five-minute head start.

At this point, I nodded in my rearview mirror to Mac and we both made a production of pulling to the side of the road, as though we hadn't seen the half-mile long line of angry people behind us before that.

The last one stopped as he passed me. "I dunno if you think you're protecting the Echolls, kid, but there aren't that many bright yellow SUVs driving around Neptine. We'll track him down eventually."

I smiled and said, "Good luck on that."

Of course, they'd have an easy time tracking down Logan's XTerra. He was going to go make quite a few visible stops in town.

Lynn Echolls, of course, was in the car we'd passed by the side of the road.

The driver? My dad, of course.

So now all I had to do was pay Mac and collect the money from Logan.

A good day all around.


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: The characters belong to Rob Thomas. I claim part of the plot.

This chapter uses a few of the phrases from "Clash of the Tritons." But only a few.

And one of the reasons I seem to be concentrating on Logan is that, basically, it's his story, so far, that has altered the most in this particular AU, and I see no point in doing too lengthy a rehash of the actual TV plots. (Obviously it'll affect more than that by the time we get around to "Leave It to Beaver.") It has nothing to do with any potential Logan/Veronica relationship.

Oh -- and I have another story I'm working on, unrelated to this one, that I'd like a little feedback on before I finish it and/or post it. Anyone who cares to help, let me know somehow and I'll send you what I have.

X X X X X

Logan actually came to school the next day, for the first time in a while.

"Everything set with your mother?" I asked.

"Yeah," he said. "According to the papers, she's flown to New York, Sydney, or Venice, meeting a secret lover in the Camelot, or holing up for rehab. Your dad got her into the Neptune Grand with no problems."

"Good to know," I said.

"That's $250, right?"

"$300 total." He gave me a questioning look. "I paid Cindy MacKenzie to be the driver of the other car."

He shrugged. "Whatever," and began counting out hundreds.

Dick Casablancas passed by right then. "Dude," he said. "I realize you've been kind of hard up recently but you can get better hookers for a lot cheaper."

"Speaks Neptune's voice of experience when it comes to cheap hookers," I replied.

Logan looked at Dick and said, "I'm not paying her for her dubious skills in the bedroom, but for her superior skills as a detective."

"You're an asshole, and thank you," I said, taking the money. Not my best line, I'll admit, but I was more startled by the compliment than by the insult.

"So we're even?" Logan asked.

I made a show of counting the money and said, "Yup."

He nodded. "Good."

I called after him cheerily, "So remember, for all your reporter-disposal needs, just think of me!"

Turning, Logan gave a mock bow and vanished. Hmmm. That didn't end as hostilely as it could have. Maybe, just maybe, there was hope for Logan Echolls.

Of course, some of that was probably simply the aftereffects of his father's death. But I'd take whatever I could get, at this point.

I checked my watch. 8:33. Nuts. I was supposed to be in our illustrious guidance counselor's office as part of her study on "the long-term effects of grief." I was going to decline a session, then I had a thought. I checked to be sure I still I had my gimmicked stapler, then hurried off down the hall.

Less than two hours later, I was being handcuffed in front of the entire school for manufacturing fake IDs -- which had somehow mysteriously spawned in my locker, to the tune of a couple of hundred. You'd've thought both Lamb and Van Clemmons would've had me pegged as not quite that stupid, and for all I know Lamb did that but couldn't resist the satisfaction of making me do a perp walk.

I passed by Logan; he didn't say a word, to my surprise. No matter, it was made up for by everyone else, including the one who took a picture of me as I left. Gosh, I hope they use that shot in the yearbook.

X X X X X

Student named Rick turned out to be the one who fingered me, allegedly at the orders of a mysterious student group known as "The Tritons." I spent the next few days trying to track them down, sandwiched around hiding in the parking lot and listening to Ms. James' grief counseling sessions.

Logan, in the interim, got into a huge fight with one of the PCHers who made a nasty crack after someone had had the poor taste to cover his locker in pictures of articles about his dad's death. This is kind of like finding someone who's just had their leg broken and kicking it a few times. As someone who's been on the other end of that kick, I can sympathize.

Yeah, I know. Sympathizing with Logan Echolls. Don't worry, I'm not planning on making a habit of it.

I got quite a bit out of listening to the sessions; I learned that, among other things, Lilly and Weevil had had something going (no matter how much I loved her, it seems that Lilly was the female equivalent of Aaron Echolls), that Duncan was both on medication for some kind of episode and had for some reason stopped taking it, and then there was what Logan had to say.

Our esteemed counselor (what? Me with issues to work out? Heaven forbid) started out with, "You could have rescheduled -- you know, with your father's recent murder."

Logan chuckled at that one. "There's a good one. I may be something of my father's child in many ways, but I'm hardly overwhelmed with grieving for my darling daddy."

"I've noticed," Ms. James said.

"And fortunately for me," Logan went on, "We're not here to hash out _that_ topic today. So let's move on to the cheerier topic of my ex-girlfriend's murder, instead."

And then I found out why Logan had become the Obligatory Psychotic Jackass.

There was this party he and I were at, sans Lilly, where I'd seen him making out with Yolanda Hamilton. And I'd told Lilly.

"It sounds like you blame Veronica," Ms. James said.

"You know, Veronica was my friend too," Logan said. "And if she hadn't ratted me out, then Lilly and I would have stayed together. And," his voice began to crack, "Lilly wouldn't have been alone that day. I would have been there. So yeah, I blame Veronica. And I blame myself for being stupid and I blame Lilly for being a bitch that week."

"I've heard she's helped you recently," Ms. James said.

Logan snorted. "Yeah. For pay." After a second. "Look. She didn't have to do it; she could have told me to throw myself in front of a bus. She didn't, and I'm glad about that."

"Sounds like you don't hate her."

"I never did. It was just easier to publicly throw everything on her. After all, everyone else was."

"And you regret that?"

"Whether I do or not, it's too late to do anything about it now." He laughed humorlessly. "In any event, I thought we were here to discuss my feelings about Lilly, not the esteemed Veronica Mars."

They went back to talking about Lilly, leaving me to try to understand what the hell I'd just heard.

In fairness, I had a whole lot to process at that point, dealing not only with the revelations from Weevil, Duncan, and Logan, but figuring out exactly who the Titans were, and why they'd tried to frame me. Turned out to be Rick all along, dealing with his own issues regarding both my father and the Tritons.

Life's a bitch. But it continues.


	6. Chapter 6

Disclaimer: All belongs to Rob Thomas; nothing but the specific plot belongs to me.

Once again, there are a couple of moments of dialogue from the show, this time from "Lord of the Bling."

Thanks for all the reviews. The feedback is greatly appreciated.

X X X X X

The next couple of weeks passed fairly smoothly. My dad tracked down two bail jumpers; the only hitch came with the last one, who was set to go on trial for beating up his wife. Dad threw out his back while wrestling the guy into his car. After finding out he wasn't seriously hurt, I rimmed him out for not remembering to hit the guy over the head first.

"Sure, sweetie," he'd said. "I'll make sure I'm carrying a Louisville Slugger with me next time."

"Damn right you will," I'd said.

I also didn't make any more progress figuring out who'd killed Lilly -- I was trying to figure out how best to broach the topics the next time I talked to Logan, Duncan, or Weevil, without actually revealing that I'd planted a bug in Ms. James' office.

I mentioned the general topic to Wallace -- without revealing the specific information, though I think I let something slip on Logan's apparent partial change of heart.

"Let me get this straight," he said. "You want to bring up subjects you found out by bugging private counseling sessions without having the people involved get royally pissed or throw your ass back out of this school again?"

"Uh-huh!" I said brightly.

Wallace laughed, saying, "And after that would you like to see Sheriff Lamb dance down the streets in a tutu?"

"Uh-huh!" I said brightly.

"Gotta say this for you. You don't think small. Anyway, I don't think these are topics that'll ever be safe to bring up. You'll just have to use 'em as background or something. They're gonna wonder where you got this stuff from."

"So you don't think my plan to say, 'uhhhh, Internet!' would work?"

"Unless Backup's secretly a pink or green-haired fairy, no."

"Do you think if I had Fairy Godparents my life would be like this?"

"Maybe," Wallace said. "Something about you kinda likes being the outsider."

True, that.

After lunch was over, I walked into the school and found Logan engaged in a quiet bit heated discussion with Vanessa Mencken. Vanessa Mencken had been one of the people who hung out in Lilly's larger circle of acquaintances and hangers-on; the kind of "friend" you would have hung out with at the mall, but not done anything really serious with.

That she'd been somewhat ambitious in the boyfriend department prevented the acquaintanceship from being anything more. In Lilly's world, there was only enough room for one man-magnet.

I overheard part of it as I walked by, "-- I know what happened, Echolls. Your father did it while your mother watched."

Logan's anger was cold. "My mother would have had nothing to do with that."

She shrugged. "I was there. You weren't. You know what --"

Unfortunately, Logan and Vanessa had both seen me as I walked by -- Vanessa had glared, Logan had rolled his eyes -- so I couldn't stick around to listen to the rest of the argument.

John Terrell, a freshman, hired me two minutes later to find out who'd been leaving threatening notes in his locker telling him to stay away from Lindy McDaniel, the girl he'd been dating. As cases go, it was one of my more boring ones; I had it figured out by the end of the day, and all it took was a simple stakeout. Lindy had been leaving the notes herself, so she could be all protective and concerned about it.

To my astonishment he didn't break up with her or anything. But I got $50 out of it, so let them have their creepy social dynamic.

X X X X X

That afternoon, Wallace and I were doing homework on the couch at Mars Investigations. We had the newspapers from the last week or so scattered over the table. One of them -- a low-rent _Enquirer_ clone called _Week Beat_ -- had a picture on the cover of Aaron Echolls' dead body, with several smaller pictures around it, all with a different woman, "Aaron Echolls' Love Life!" the headline screamed. "Wife goes into seclusion!" A subhead said.

"How'd they get that picture of his corpse?"

I laughed. "You're kidding me, right? The Echolls had their own photographers there. Doesn't startle me in the least that one of 'em decided to cash in."

"Is Logan handling it better?" His fight with Hector had been the talk of the school. He'd played the sympathy card just right, leading to him not getting in trouble at all while Hector got kicked out for a couple of days. (In any event, it's not like he actually had anyone to come down there and hash things out with Van Clemmons, what with his mom holing up, his dad being dead, and his sister being a publicity-hungry lunatic. Who was he going to bring, the maid?

"As near as I can tell. It's not like we're phone buddies or anything."

Dad crept his way to his office, still sore from his encounter with the bail-jumper. I teased him a bit more, gave him some pills, and got back to homework.,

A minute or so later, speaking of people who were in Lilly's vague social circle, Yolanda Hamilton's dad came in and hired dad to find her. Apparently she'd gone missing and he didn't want the cops involved.

Dad and I actually worked together on this one, for once. Turned out there hadn't been a kidnapping at all; Yolanda had simply run off to get married. Still, I got a lovely guided tour of the inner workings of the music world. If I had any illusions about a singing career, this pretty much destroyed them. From now on I'm limiting my musical excursions to karaoke.

I got a chance to talk to Yolanda via the internet a bit later that night, though. She didn't blame me for the social isolation she experienced after I told on her and Logan's makeout session.

"Veronica," she said, "If I'd been in your position I would have done the same thing."

I smiled. "Thanks, then. Forgiveness seems to be in short supply around Neptune these days."

"Still isolated yourself, huh?"

"Sometimes it feels like I'm on Tristan da Cunha."

There was a knock at the door. "Hold on a second," I told Yolanda.

I got a shock when I opened the front door.

It was Logan.

"What are you doing here?"

"I want you to stop Vanessa Mencken from slandering my mother."

It was going to be a while before I got back to Yolanda.


	7. Chapter 7

SweetSlayer810: Vanessa Mencken is my own creation.

Disclaimer: As above, plus the characters and settings belonging to Rob Thomas.

X X X X X

Logan seemed decidedly less businesslike than he was the last time he asked me for a favor. He seemed nervous and jittery and unLoganlike.

"I assume this has something to do with the conversation I overheard a few days ago?"

"If by 'conversation' you mean 'blackmail attempt," then yes."

I suddenly realized we were still talking through my open doorway, which was slightly ridiculous. "Come inside, okay?"

He walked in and looked around, but refrained from making a sarcastic comment on the state of my living quarters. My second surprise in two minutes. One more like that and I'd better hope Logan knows CPR. "So," I said, "Want to give me the details?"

"No," Logan said, "I don't. But I don't have anyone else I can turn to." He sighed. "Look, Veronica, here's the way it is: My dad slept around. A lot. With practically anything that walked, talked, and was a member of the opposite sex."

"He never hit on me," I said. I'd met Aaron Echolls a few times.

"He had his standards," Logan said, then immediately said, "Wait. For once, I didn't mean that as an insult. You were the one type he wouldn't have been interested in. You're smart and you'd fight back. Aaron Echolls hated to have anyone around him who could fight back. It couldn't have been anything else. Certainly the age issue wouldn't have bothered him."

"Vanessa Mencken," I said.

He nodded. "17 when they started. I don't give a crap about the reputation of the great Aaron Echolls. If all she wanted to do was trash my father's reputation I'd tell her to go to town. Hell, I'd give her the name of a tabloid and tell her to enjoy herself." He looked at me. "Our attorney's gotten about thirty people claiming that, mostly asking for money. The other half –" he pointed to a tabloid lying nearby – "Well, you know what they're doing. The only good thing about all of this is that they couldn't claim to be having his love child. He took the ultimate precaution there."

I guessed that meant vasectomy. Still -- "The ultimate precaution would have been not trying to bed anything that walked, talked, and was a member of the opposite sex."

"You might as well have tried to stop the sun from rising or Adam Sandler from making lousy movies."

"So the difference here is that he's dragging your Mom into it," Veronica said.

"Yes. She said Mom liked watching the two of them having sex. That she -- got off on it. And since arranging to have her murdered would get me in trouble, I'd like you to prove she's lying." He gave me a steely glance. "Because she is lying."

I held up my hands. "I believe you. The thing is, it's going to be awfully hard to prove otherwise. Did she give any details about when and where the alleged tawdry rendezvous took place?"

"Last summer," Logan said. "I was having a party while Mom was in London and Dad was filming his last movie. He came home for a quick break and that's when she said it started. Then, one day, Mom came home and walked in on them in flagrante and just told them to keep going." He took a deep breath. "Then, then Mom told them to do it again, and again, because she – she liked to watch." Damn. He was almost on the verge of crying. I had no idea what I'd do with a weepy Logan Echolls.

He caught himself. "Supposedly it went on like this for a couple of weeks before she got sick of it and broke it off." Then he looked directly into my eyes. "She's lying, Veronica. Prove it."

"I'll do my best," I said. I didn't even bring up payment. It would have seemed crass, at that point. Logan seemed to be in need of comforting, but I was probably one of the last people on earth who he'd want comfort from.

Well, _that_ kind of comfort. Obviously, he's asking for another kind of comfort. That, I'm good at.

He takes both of his hands and clasps one of mine. "Thanks," he said with utter sincerity. "I feel safer already, Machiavelli."

I chuckled, then I had a thought. "Does anyone know you came over here?"

"No. Not even Mom."

"Good. Then here's how we're going to play this."

X X X X X

By the flagpole the next morning, I told Logan the deal was off and that he was on his own.

"You BITCH!" Logan yelled. Everyone in the vicinity turned to look. "I ask for help and you –"

I laughed bitterly. "What, Logan? Did you actually expect me to be nice to you? After the shit you and your crew have put me through the last year and a half?"

"Oh, no," he said, walking towards me until our faces were less than three feet apart. "God knows the great Veronica Mars never helps anyone unless it helps her. Tell me, what did those reporters you led away from my mansion ever do to you?"

"They lied about my father," I yelled right back.

"No," he said, "They didn't."

"They're not lying about yours, either. Or about your –"

He interrupted with, "One more word, Mars, and I'll –"

"You'll what?" came a voice from behind him. Weevil. I'd been so involved in my shouting match with Logan that I hadn't even seen him there.

"Back off, Paco," Logan said. "This is none of your business."

"This area," Weevil said, gesturing to the flagpole. "This IS where I do business. So unless you wanna end up taped to the flagpole, get lost."

Logan turned and looked at him. "I've been threatened by some of the best," he said. "You're not even in the running for an honorable mention."

Now it was Weevil's turn to get in Logan's face. "Go ahead, rich boy," he said. "I'm waiting for an excuse."

Logan backed off. "You're not going to get one right now," he said, and turned away and walked off.

As the crowd – disappointed that someone, probably me, wasn't being beaten senseless -- Weevil looked at me. "Don't tell me I just got involved in one of your famous schemes."

"Only the failure of one," I said. "And thanks."

"I didn't do it to help you, V," he said.

"Sure you didn't," I said. Then I put a hand on his shoulder. "Don't worry, Weevil. Your secret's safe with me."

As I walked off towards the school building, he called after me, "That's two you owe me!"

I ran into Vanessa Mencken right after first period. "I heard about what you're doing with Logan."

"How?"

"You weren't exactly quiet about it in the halls the other day," I said. "And besides, Logan asked for my help and I turned him down."

"Huh. That explains the Celebrity Deathmatch you were having this morning."

"Yes, it does. Though we had to end it before one of us got disemboweled. Unfortunately. Anyway," I said with enthusiasm and as much camaraderie as I could muster, "How can I help you get him?"

"I'm not sure –"

"Look," I said. "He tried to hire me to dig up dirt on you and prove you were lying. He got pissed when I turned him down. How long do you think it's going to be before he hires a real professional? But if I prove your story's true before he has a chance to –"

She smiled. "Gotcha." The bell rang. "Gotta go. But, Veronica, I'm a little short of cash right now --"

"Don't worry, this one's on me."

It would have had to be. I couldn't very well take her money when I was still working for Logan, now could I?


	8. Chapter 8

Okay, now we're moving into Mars vs. Mars territory. This ep won't be disposed of in a few sentences like the last couple were. You'll recognize a few snatches of dialogue here and there.

Disclaimer: Still 'tain't mine.

X X X X X

I quickly made arrangements to meet Vanessa after school, where she said she'd give me all she had on her affair with Aaron Echolls. I told her I'd be asking around about it, and she said that that wouldn't bother her.

Self-confident, that Vanessa Mencken.

By lunchtime, though, Logan's and my fight had been shoved roughly to the inside pages of the Neptune High gossip column. Carrie Bishop had accused Mr. Rooks -- one of the few good teachers _at _Neptune High_ -- _of having seduced her and gotten her pregnant.

I didn't believe it, of course, and promised Mr. Rooks I'd look into that, too. It's not like he was Aaron Echolls, after all.

My plate was full.

At lunch Wallace and I got to watch Carrie be tormented by some of her fellow students. I didn't sympathize in the least. Carrie had been the gossip queen of Neptune High for a long time, and she who lives by the poisonous remark shall die by the poisonous remark.

Then I began to ask Wallace a favor when he interrupted with, "Let me guess. Borrow her permanent file?"

"You're half right."

Wallace rolled his eyes. "Who else?"

"Vanessa Mencken."

Wallace looked at me suspiciously. "This have something to do with the big fight you had with Logan Echolls this morning?"

I looked at him with mock disappointment. "I remember you when you were young and innocent."

"Yeah, and then we met."

Right then Duncan walked by and I excused myself to chase after him. I wanted to find out exactly what was wrong with him and I had a plan to do that too.

Did I say my plate was full? So beyond full --

X X X X X

After school, Wallace caught up with me as I was leaving the building. He looked around like he was in a bad spy movie, then held out two files.

"Carrie and Vanessa's files." He yanked them back as I reached for them.

I started to glare -- no one can resist the patented Veronica Mars glare -- when he said, "It's risky enough getting you one of these things. Two of them? If you're caught, I've never met you, I've never seen you, I have no idea who you are."

"I think the part where you eat lunch with me every day might foil that little plan of yours."

He gave me the files and said, "Who are you again?" and walked off.

I quickly opened Vanessa's on top. Hmmm. This was interesting --

This was my day for not seeing people. Weevil this morning, Vanessa now. "You ready?" she said. I shut the file in a hurry. "What'cha got there?" she asked.

"Nothing connected with Logan," I said, then had a thought. "You have any idea about whether what Carrie Bishop's saying about Mr. Rooks is true?"

She said, "I don't believe her."

"Any special reason?"

"Sure. She's saying he slept with her when he could have tried hitting on --" she pointed to herself -- "me."

And right there was the reason why Vanessa Mencken never was and never would be up to the standards of Lilly Kane. Lilly could charm men and women equally. Vanessa didn't do too badly with the guys but I couldn't think of a single girl who could do more than put up with her.

Out loud I said, "You know where Mars Investigations is, right?" She said yes. "Good. I'll meet you there in half an hour or so. I have a couple of things I have to do first."

Then I ran to catch up to Carrie. Our conversation about Mr. Rooks didn't go all that well, but I did have the chance to ask herif Aaron Echolls had ever hit on her or worse.

"No," she said. "I think you're still Neptune's number one skank."

"Yeah, but you're moving up fast."

We sniped at each other for a bit more before I went to my car and got in. Once I cleared the parking lot, I made a call.

Logan answered. "Well, hello there, Machiavelli. Any progress?" He sounded almost happy to hear from me.

"Yeah, Vanessa bought our big fight. We're meeting in about twenty minutes so she can give me the details."

"Good. Nail her to the wall." Despite his generally relaxed tone of voice, the anger shone through clearly.

"Oh, I plan to."

"I can't believe you got Weevil Navarro into this," Logan said.

"I didn't. Just lucky, I guess."

"Weevil Navarro's presence being lucky. That's a new one."

"I was actually expecting Van Clemmons to have to rip us apart. Maybe Weevil thought you were going to hit me or something."

His voice got deadly serious for a second. "I would never do that to you."

It took me a second to get my thoughts together after that. "There's something else I need you to do."

"What is that, O devious tiny blonde one?"

"I need to talk to your attorney. I want the names of some of these other women."

"I can have him call you."

I thought. "Better give me his number instead. I'm not sure when I'll be free."

He gave me the number, which I awkwardly wrote down. Then he said, "So the rumors were right."

"Rumors?"

"You _do_ charge."

You know how sometimes you're driving down the highway and all of a sudden you round a curve and find traffic backed up five miles? "Logan –"

"And now I'm going to say something I almost never say," he interrupted.

"What's that?" I asked irritably.

"I'm sorry."

This is the point in those old Warner Brothers cartoons when the fish or bird says, "Now I've seen everything," and shoots himself in the head. The sun just rose in the west. The Pope has converted to Zoroastrianism. Jessica Alba made a good movie.

Logan Echolls has just apologized, seriously, to Veronica Mars.

He went on, "Force of habit. I've been angry and bitter at you for over a year and a half; it's hard to interact with you any other way."

"The reporter thing? You did fine with that."

"That was business," he said. "This – don't think I didn't notice that you never asked me for money."

Should I tell him I'd been planning to bring it up later?

No. He was right. I wasn't doing this for the money. "I hate that we've been enemies for so long," I said.

"Well, part of it was fun," Logan said. "You challenge me, Mars. I have to be more on my toes around you than with anyone else."

I pretended to be insulted. "So you're comparing me to Dick Casablancas and Madison Sinclair."

"Not only are they not in your league, they're hitting the ball off tees while you're a first ballot hall-of-famer." Then, a bit more seriously, "Look. We used to be friends. But that was before –"

"Before." He didn't need to say before what. "That's a pretty big before."

"We'll never be like that again," he said. "Even if we do have that out between us in a serious conversation."

"A serious conversation? With Logan Echolls?" I asked with more than a bit of disbelief.

"So what, I can't take shots at you but you can spray me with an AK-47?" He didn't seem offended, though.

"Now you're catching on," I said. Then, "Maybe, once this is settled, we can have that conversation."

"I look forward to it," he said. I really didn't, despite wanting it to happen.

Does that mean I'm contradicting myself? Well, you know what they say about foolish consistencies. And if you don't, you should look it up.

"Okay, I'm here," I said, "And she could show any minute. If I have any other questions –"

"Call anytime," he said, and seemed to mean it. "Now go get 'em, Machiavelli."

And then I walked into the office and found out that dad had been hired by Carrie Bishop's parents to provide evidence against Mr. Rooks.

Those people who say, "If life hands you lemons, make lemonade?" What do they do when life just stands back and throws the lemons at your head?


	9. Chapter 9

Thanks for all the reviews and commentary, folks. (And if you have any interest in Buffy, take a look at my Buffyfic as well.) We're still deep in Mars vs. Mars. There will be stray dialogue sightings.

And to those who are wondering: I am writing them this quickly. Call it inspiration.

Disclaimer: Rob Thomas owns 'em. I don't. Alas.

X X X X X

I wound up getting into a heated discussion with dad on the merits of Mr. Rooks as a history teacher and Carrie Bishop as the nosiest person in Neptune High, but he wouldn't give up working the case against him.

"Fine," I said grumpily, "You can answer your own phone."

Right then is when Vanessa Mencken walked in, so I used the power of my death-ray eyes to burn a hole in his door and went out and sat next to her on the couch.

"What do you need?" she asked.

"As many details as you can give me," I said.

And she cooperated. It was more or less the story Logan had told, only she gave me a few more details. The date of the party (June 25, 2005.) The day that Lynn had supposedly caught them in bed together. (The following Wednesday, having come home from Europe a day early.) The number of times they did it. (Like I'm going to tell you, though apparently it was at least once a day.) She told me where they had sex (the Echolls' poolhouse).

When she began to tell me about Aaron's bedroom skills I held up my hands. "Skip that," I said.

"But you said you wanted details. And with your reputation --"

"Skip it," I said more loudly, restraining my "smart remark" urge with all my might. Here I am pretending to help her, and I get insults. I suppose I should have expected nothing different from your typical '09er, but still --

Vanessa shrugged. "Your loss. He was _really_ talented. Anyway, after that first night, Lynn insisted on watching every time; by the following Saturday I was creeped out enough that I told him I was done and took off."

"Did anyone else see any of this?"

"I'm sure a lot of people saw me at Logan's party," she said. "As for the rest of it -- no. But I can tell you where you can get the proof."

"Where?"

"The Echolls' poolhouse. One night I noticed something in the ceiling and went took a closer look. Veronica, he had the place wired for video. I looked around and there was a wire leading into the wall. Find the recordings and find your proof."

X X X X X

That was pretty much it; I told her to let me know if she came up with anything else. That Aaron Echolls liked to watch himself should have come as a surprise, but didn't. Human nature being what it is, the only thing that did surprise me is that no one else seemed to have noticed it.

In the meantime, I had other things to do. I hustled down to the nearest supermarket and picked up every tabloid that mentioned Aaron Echolls' love life, then I went to the library and copied a few back issues of "more respectable" publications. This gave me the names of nine of his bedmates. I also checked to see if Vanessa's story about Aaron Echolls' movie having gone on break at that point checked out. I found out in Variety that it di; one of his co-stars had suddenly developed appendicitis and those were the only scenes the movie had left to shoot.

I read through the stories in the tabloids and magazines. Not a single one brought up Lynn Echolls as more than Aaron Echolls' wife, usually with the adjective "long-suffering" attached.

Then I called the Echolls' attorney.

"Ms. Mars?" a clipped voice came over the phone. "I'm Hiram Dashiell. The younger Mr. Echolls told me to expect your call and to cooperate, if possible. How can I help you?"

"I understand that you've been the point man dealing with people claiming to have slept with the late Aaron Echolls."

"This is true, Ms. Mars."

"Can I get a list of these people? I realize settlement amounts are sealed, but --"

"The only settlements we've made have been with those women who were underage at the time. Everyone else has been invited to go to the tabloids and do their worst. Some clearly have; many, apparently, have not."

This was a surprise. "Why --"

"Why wouldn't we settle? Once we explained to them that Mr. Echolls had done nothing illegal and had gotten none of them pregnant, most of them went away. Certainly, some of them said that Mr. Echolls had made promises of marriage, but given his track record --"

"No one would believe it," I said. While Aaron Echolls had been married twice, he'd divorced his first wife before he'd married Lynn. And no one WOULD believe it, other than maybe as a cynical ploy to get the women into bed. I had a thought. "How many underage women were there? I don't want their names, just the number."

"Four," Mr. Dashiell said. Well, no help there; a man who'll sleep with four underage women will certainly sleep with another. In any event, I wasn't trying to prove Aaron Echolls innocent, but Lynn Echolls.

"In their conversations," I asked, "Did any of them mention Mrs. Echolls?"

"Only tangentially."

"Never as a participant? Or an observer?"

"Never." He sounded offended

"Could I have that list?"

He sent it by fax. This gave me a total of 21 women to try and track down. I went over to the computer and got to work.

X X X X X

That night and the next day, sandwiched around a visit to Mr. Rooks' house to get some information from him about his relationship with Carrie, I called all the women I could find. I hadn't been able to locate three of them. One was a big-name Hollywood actress herself by this point and I couldn't get to the person to get to the person to get to her press secretary. Three more simply told me to get lost if I wasn't going to pay them anything.

The other ones were more cooperative. "Hi, is this Aileen Sparrow?" I said, typically. "My name's Kate Severance and I'm with the Neptune Gazette. We're doing a story on another woman who claims to have had an affair with the late Aaron Echolls and we were wondering if you could provide some information for us."

By the time of the fifth iteration of the same "No, Lynn Echolls had nothing to do with any of it" response, I could have performed the conversations in my sleep. I finished out the calls in case any of them decided to vary the pattern. No such luck. None of them had even so much as seen her.

Then, after another argument with my father about Carrie Bishop and Mr. Rooks -- he actually believed that diary of hers meant something -- I called Logan.

"Machiavelli!" he said. "How's it going?"

I explained what I'd found about the other women his father had slept with. He said, "That's not bad, but that's not going to stop her from making the claim."

"Might be helpful if it gets to court."

"If it gets to court, I've failed. Anyway, that's not what I'm paying you for."

"I hope your amnesia is cured soon."

"Huh?"

"You're not paying me."

"I am paying you with the pleasure of my company and conversation."

I laughed. "Like I said, you're not paying me."

He laughed too. "Point, Mars."

"Two other things," I said. "First, I need to get into your poolhouse." I explained why.

"I can work that," he said. "What's the other other thing?"

I took adeep breath. "I need to talk to your mother."


	10. Chapter 10

Disclaimer: All belongs to Rob Thomas. I'm just borrowing them and promise to return them at some point.

Logan's response was fast and predictable: "Not a chance."

"Look, Logan –"

"What part of 'not a chance' are you having trouble understanding, Mars? No, no way, no chance in hell, I'd sooner dance on a cafeteria table in my lucky boxers."

If that was the way it was going to be – "Okay, then. I quit. Good luck."

A moment of silence, then, "You know why I don't want her brought into this."

"I do," I said. "And I understand. You're being protective of her."

"After all those years with the Legendary Aaron Echolls," he said, "Mom certainly needs it. I told you why Daddy would have never hit on you. That's one of the reasons he married my mother. Mom's smart, but she was never a fighter, even when I was young. Now –"

"I get all this. Now, tell me this. Do you think I'd hurt her?"

"I think you'd do whatever you had to do get the truth out," Logan said. "You've never cared who you hurt along the way."

The words were insulting; the tone wasn't. Logan was telling the truth as he saw it. For once, he wasn't trying to hurt me. Knowing this was what let me restrain myself from a return shot. "Only when people are trying to hide something from me. Your mom's not a suspect here, or a hostile witness; she's a potential victim."

Logan said, "Did you mean it when you said you'd quit if you didn't get to talk to her?"

"Yup."

Another moment of silence. "Then I'll try to arrange it. If she says no, I'm not going to push it."

"Thanks. As far as the poolhouse goes –"

He laughed without a trace of humor to the laugh. "You'd better come over now. If the place is wired I'm going to burn it to the ground. I don't want the Aaron Echolls Playhouse to become another feature on the nightly news. You might want to get here before I figure out what I can use for accelerant."

I wasn't sure he was kidding and didn't want to take the chance. "I'll be right over," I said, and hung up.

A never-ending madcap whirligig of fun, that's my life.

I'm glad the Neptune Sheriff's department seemed to have taken the day off – okay, they took most days off, but you know what I mean. I must've broken a dozen traffic laws and two laws of physics getting to Logan's. Along the way I called Duncan's doctor and set myself up for an appointment for later in the week. I _would_ figure out what was wrong with him.

When I got there, there were still a couple of reporters camped out by the front gate. One of them was the guy who'd "warned" me back when I stalled their pursuit of Lynn Echolls. They both gave me dirty looks as I went through the gate.

I smiled and waved right back. This seemed to make them more irritated, for some reason.

Logan saw me coming and, with a mocking bow, waved me inside and through the house.

I'd been in the poolhouse before, of course, for the big poker game right before Aaron Echolls had gone and gotten himself killed. I'd never been in the bedroom, though.

(And again it occurred to me how very different the 09'er life was from the lives of ordinary people. The Echolls' _poolhouse_ was bigger than the apartment dad and I and Backup shared.)

Logan stood in the doorway, unwilling or unable to actually enter the room. "If you want a drink, though, a spare key to the liquor cabinet's in the vent."

"You learned that from Lilly," I said, smiling a bit at the memory.

"Lilly learned that from me," he said.

I saw the wire as soon as I looked for it. The camera took a little longer; it was buried in the fan. No two-minute job, this. I scoured the room for other cameras; there was one more, in the statue at the head of the bed. Using my own camera, I started taking pictures.

"What are you doing?" Logan demanded from the doorway.

"Look. It has to look to Vanessa like I'm doing my job here. She'd want photographic proof on the chance that you did indeed decide to give this place the Towering Inferno treatment. Don't worry, she's never actually going to get to keep any of these things."

I followed the wire across the ceiling and into the wall behind a bookcase. I fiddled with the bookcase until it slid apart.

Son of a bitch. There were two monitors in there and drawers and _drawers _ full of videotapes. This confirmed, at least partially, Vanessa's story, but then neither Logan nor I had ever doubted her about sleeping with Aaron Echolls. I took a couple of more shots.

Everything seemed to be chronological. I picked one of the later drawers at random – the beginning was sometime in mid-2003, the end sometime at the end of the year. There were a couple of tapes missing somewhere towards the middle. Interesting, but not what I was looking for. I took a close-up picture of the drawer's contents – more "proof" for Vanessa – and closed it and moved down a drawer.

Bingo. Late June 2004, there were three tapes labeled with the right dates. I pulled them out and started to play them. There was Vanessa Mencken, all right. "You might not want to—"

"Eyes averted, trust me." I stopped the playback and looked at him. "Logan?" His back was towards me. "Logan, if you'd rather not see or hear any of this, I can take it with me."

"Wise decision," he said.

I pulled out the tapes and, walking over to him, said, "I'll let you know what I find."

He turned and looked at me. "I appreciate that, Mars, but I already know you won't find my mother and I'm not interested in tips from dear old dad on my technique in the sack. I haven't had any complaints so far. I just have better things to do with my time." Sure, Logan. And I'm the WWE's newest diva. I can tell you're starting to get a little concerned that maybe, just maybe, Vanessa Mencken's story was true. All of it. We started to walk out.

"For complaints about your technique," I said innocently after a few minutes, "Don't there have to be complainants?"

His eyebrows raised. "You want proof, Machiavelli? I'm happy to oblige."

I batted my eyelashes, calling his bluff. "Oh take me, take me, you big strong hunk of man, you."

He muttered something under his breath; when I asked him to repeat himself, he said, "Never mind, Mars. I have to go find some gasoline," and left me alone in the middle of the house.

It had sounded like he'd said, "Don't tempt me."

That couldn't be right . . .

X X X X X

I didn't get a chance to watch much of the tapes of the next couple of days; I was preoccupied by the case against Mr. Rooks, which involved, among other things, my dad trapping his safe in the expectation that I would sneak into it, the frantic scrubbing of said trap (ink, indelible) off of my face, and shaming my dad into giving me _some_ information from Carrie Bishop's diary. It wasn't until after a conversation with both Mr. Rooks and Carrie – proving she was lying using some of the information from her file (Vanessa's, incidentally, had been no help at all – she didn't have a track record of things like this).

When I finally got some time to myself that night, I watched as much of them as I could stand and fast forwarded through the rest.

Lynn Echolls didn't appear once. Not in voice, not in person, not at all. Now I had to go scrub my eyes out with Clorox.

So why would Vanessa have told me to look for them if she knew Lynn wouldn't be on them? I had several possibilities and didn't like any of them.

The next day, Logan finally got back to me as I was on my way into school and told me I could see his mother that day immediately after school.

A bit later, Mr. Rooks told me that his meeting with the school board was that day immediately after school.

I've always been able to juggle multiple priorities. Now they're both crashing to the ground and I only have time to catch one of them.

But which one?


	11. Chapter 11

Disclaimer: None of it is mine (except Vanessa Mencken); all of it is Rob Thomas' (except Vanessa Mencken).

Anyone have any idea where I'm going with this?

X X X X X

So I approached it rationally.

I made lists in my head of why I should go to Mr. Rooks' hearing, and why I should go to see Lynn Echolls. (I was no fun at all at lunch that day. Wallace said he would've rather had lunch with a brick wall -- at least the brick wall wasn't supposed to actually, you know, be listening.)

Every reason I could think of favored Mr. Rooks. I liked him; my relationship with Logan was confusing but not at the level of like. (At least it definitely didn't seem to be hatred anymore.) The hearing was at a fixed time; the meeting with Lynn Echolls could be rescheduled. Carrie Bishop pissed me off; Lynn Echolls aroused my sympathies. (Vanessa Mencken pissed me off, too, but unlike Carrie she'd never done me any real dirt, she'd just been casually hurtful.) Mr. Rooks was one of the true good guys. Logan Echolls was -- or had been, until recently -- one of the bad guys.

Mr. Rooks had made Neptune High almost fun. Logan Echolls had made Neptune High almost hell.

I had convinced myself to call Logan and let him know that I was going to have to postpone talking to his mother when I realized that I was in my LeBaron and halfway to the Neptune Grand.

Instinct 1, reason 0. Mr. Rooks was on his own.

I called Logan to tell him, instead, that I was on my way. He told me to ask for "Mary Lester" when I got there and that I'd be escorted right up. Dad had stashed Lynn Echolls in the penthouse; you needed a special card to even make the elevator stop on that floor. Kept out any non-rich riffraff, except for those rare occasions, like now, when you wanted the riffraff to show up.

That's not saying Mrs. Echolls had that attitude. She'd always seemed nice enough.

The woman at the front desk -- Marissa by name -- asked me to confirm who I was , then motioned one of the bellhops to take over for her while she escorted me upstairs. "Really," I said. "I promise I won't steal the towels."

She gave me a look as though she suspected that that was exactly why I came there, escorted me to the front door of the Echolls' suite, and waited until Logan had let me in before she left.

"Charming woman," I said as Logan closed the door.

"Salt of the earth, that Marissa," Logan said. "Always looks and acts like she just found half a maggot in her steak." Then he got serious. "Here's the deal. Mom's in the next room and she knows you're coming. If she gets upset, the interview's over."

"You'll have to figure out she's upset from the next room." Before Logan could protest, I said, "I need her to answer honestly. I don't know if she'll answer honestly with you there."

Logan looked at me. "I suppose you'll turn around and walk out if I say no."

"More or less. Though I might go down the fire escape instead."

He sighed. "Or over the balcony." He knocked on the bedroom door. "Mom? Veronica's here."

I walked into the bedroom and closed the door behind me. Lynn Echolls was lying on her bed with the TV on (and switched, oddly, to Oprah.) When I walked in, she switched it off.

She looked --

Well, she looked like anyone would look who'd been holing up in a hotel room for the past few weeks. Made up and clean, but so pale you would have thought she was a cavefish. She smiled when she saw me. "Veronica," she said.

"Mrs. Echolls," I began. "Sorry to bother you—"

"Bother? You and your father got me away from those reporters. Nothing you do will ever bother me. And call me Lynn." She drank something from a glass – water, looked like.

"It's just that I'm going to be talking about some fairly uncomfortable subjects."

"You mean like how my husband stuck his penis into damn near anything that moved?" Lynn said.

I blinked. I hadn't been expecting that. "Um –"

"I've gotten used to the idea. Believe me. If he'd survived, I would have divorced him. Or killed myself. Whatever would have done him the most damage."

Okay, now I really needed to get my bearings. This conversation was going nowhere near like I'd thought. Logan's concern for his mother seemed to be, to say the least, misdirected.

"So you didn't know he was having all of those affairs?"

"Know? I knew he'd had a couple of affairs here and there over the years – he was a celebrity, not a priest. The last time I caught him – on the set of _Road to Dead _six years ago – he swore he'd never do it again. Of course, I was stupid and desperate enough to believe him." She took another drink of water. "I used to be an actress myself. You can look it up. But my last acting job was seven years ago, and that was just a cameo in one of Aaron's movies. Aaron told me I didn't have to work; that he'd take care of me. Having affairs with every woman who walked by isn't taking care of me."

Sounded to me like she'd been waiting to dump this for a long time. Hell, I may have been the first person she could have dumped it on. For various reasons, either no one else wanted to hear it, or they wanted to hear it on _Entertainment Tonight_. I'm betting she never saw any therapists, either. Aaron Echolls seemed domineering enough not to want her telling anyone else his secrets.

"Speaking of you catching him," I began, and gave her the details on Vanessa Mencken's claim. The only thing I left out was how the Echolls' poolhouse had become a do-it-yourself porn film set.

"I didn't catch them," Lynn said. "And if I had I wouldn't have stood around and watched."

I guessed she didn't mean she would have started beating on their backs with a pool cue. That wasn't her style.

"That's what this is about. This Mencken girl is threatening to go sell her story to the Enquirer or something and Logan's trying to protect me." She smiled. "Probably the only good thing he ever got from Aaron. That and his looks." Then she said, "She was right about one thing, though: I did come home from my trip a day early. I remember it was because the hotel I was staying at had double-booked the suite I was staying in – and since the other person was Duke somebody, I was the one who had to leave. When I got home Aaron wasn't in the house; he came in a few minutes later and told me he'd fallen asleep in the poolhouse."

We passed a bit more time in pleasantries and then I excused myself. Logan escorted me downstairs and I left to go back home. Along the way Wallace called me and told me that the school board had decided to let Mr. Rooks go.

Damn.

So here's what I had: No smoking gun from Lynn Echolls. With the tapes, I could probably get Vanessa to back off the story – let her go and sell her tale of the affair with Aaron Echolls if she wanted, or go to Hiram Dashiell for money – but that still didn't explain why she'd led me to the tapes if she knew they'd prove she was lying.

I mean, she could sell the tapes to _Access Hollywood_ if she got her hands on them --

Of course.


	12. Chapter 12

There's one final piece of Mars Vs. Mars that needs to be taken care of. Since things have changed. Don't worry, that talk Logan and Veronica were planning to have is coming soon.

DIsclaimer: Rob Thomas owns everything. I would like everything but I'll settle for Charisma Carpenter.

I made arrangements to meet Vanessa at the office at 7 the next evening – Dad would be working on another case by that point. A simple "prove my wife is cheating scum" case, nothing challenging, but it paid the bills. It meant I'd have to bail on working on the Navigator that night, but Duncan didn't seem horribly upset when I apologized for my impending absence.

If I'd thought Carrie Bishop had been isolated before, the next day at school things were even worse. I still felt no sympathy; she'd lied and gotten an innocent man thrown out of his job for no reason I could see.

Which was odd. What was her reason? She wasn't suing him and she couldn't press criminal charges – I'd see to that. Hmm. Something to think about. Only the completely insane did something for no reason, and Carrie clearly wasn't delusional.

On my way to Mr. Rooks', I called Logan and explained what I thought we should do. It was a bit more complex than I usually get – I almost felt like I was on the set of some lame '80s sitcom – but every once in a while complex is good.

I got to Mr. Rooks' house and he invited me in.

"You didn't have to come here, Veronica," he said.

"Well, I wanted to apologize. For not being able to help you yesterday. Something else came up – something I couldn't get out of." Well, of course I could have gotten out of it. I just chose not to. For some reason.

"Thanks. I don't know what you could have done, though."

"I know she was lying," I said. I felt the coffee I'd had an hour previously begin to work its magic. "Could I use your bathroom?"

"Sure. Down the hall. Want anything to drink?"

I stepped inside. The house was quite fashionable, but I wasn't really there to do an Extreme Home Makeover. "Um – sure. Diet whatever."

I went up the hall as Mr. Rooks turned on the stereo. I stopped and frowned for a second. Was that Mick Jagger?

I looked through his bedroom doorway as I passed it. His bedsheets were black.

Damn. Carrie might not have been telling the truth, but she wasn't lying. She'd mentioned the Stones and the black bedsheets in one of our arguments. She might not have slept with Mr. Rooks, but _someone_ had. And Carrie'd been willing to sacrifice her reputation to bring him down.

Suddenly I didn't need to use the bathroom as much any more. Not here. Not _ever_ here. I made my excuses to Mr. Rooks and got out of there.

And now I knew my instincts had been right when I'd chosen to help Logan rather than Mr. Rooks.

I'd thought he was one of the good guys. Well, Veronica, Superman just split the take with Lex Luthor and Sir Lancelot let a dragon burn a village because he was making out with Guinevere. There are no good guys. Except for my dad.

X X X X X

Vanessa walked in. I was sitting at the receptionist desk and told her to come over and sit down. "I'm done," I said as she was getting comfortable.

"You have the proof?"

"No, actually, I don't. I'm sorry. I found the tapes exactly where you said they'd be -- it was a bitch and a half sneaking onto the estate -- but Lynn Echolls didn't appear in them."

"Huh," she said. "He must have had those parts erased." Sorry, Vanessa, I'm not buying the act any more.

"Must have," I said. "None of the other victims ever mentioned her -- except as Aaron Echolls' wife, of course. And while Mrs. Echolls did come back from her European vacation a day early, she denies having broken in on you." I held up a hand to stall her obvious objection. "Of course she would. But he-said she-said isn't going to get you much of anywhere. Especially with her public reputation as one of the victims in all of this."

She looked at me suspiciously. "You talked to her?"

I was ready for this one. "Logan Echolls hates my guts. The feeling's mutual." Well, I'd thought it was. "Lynn's always liked me, from way back when he and I were friends." Back when Lilly was alive and Duncan was my boyfriend. "I just showed up where she was staying and asked to see her."

"Where is that?" she asked. Nice try, Vanessa. I'm the only one in this room who can pull off innocent.

I shook my head. "I can't tell you that. That's part of a previous case and I'd be violating confidentiality if I told you."

"You're not really a private investigator," Vanessa said, "And you just said you hated him." Not really an investigator? That one's going to cost you.

"I do, believe me. That's why I'm helping you. But, really, if it got around that I'd just give casually give away my clients' secrets, how many people do you think would trust me?"

"Huh," she said. "Not even if I cut you in?"

"Cut me in on what?" I asked innocently, as if I didn't know.

She looked at me as though I were the stupidest person on the planet. "On the money we'll get if we sell this. Look, Veronica. Everyone else has had maybe a photo or two. We have video, plus we have the place where Lynn Echolls is hiding out. We could make a lot." Wait, wasn't she already rich? Maybe Daddy Mencken was planning to disinherit her and she needed a nest egg of her own.

I acted like I was just figuring it out. "So, wait," I said. "I think I'm getting this. You were going to try to blackmail Logan Echolls with a phony story about his mother -- until I volunteered. Then, knowing my reputation --" no arrogance there, believe me, everyone at Neptune High knew my reputation -- "You figured that I could get the tapes where you couldn't. When I mentioned knowing where Lynn Echolls was holing up, you decided to try to toss that into the mix." I looked at her. "Am I getting it?"

"Exactly," she said. "I guessed that Echolls would pay a lot to protect his mother, even from a fake story like mine, given how he protected her from the reporters. So if you'll let me have the tapes --"

I shrugged and reached into the desk drawer, pulling them out.

Right then Logan stormed through the front door, lawyer in tow, and said, "Hold it!"

"Hold what?"

"Those tapes, Miss Mars," the lawyer said.

"What tapes?" I said, sticking them back in the drawer as Vanessa demanded to know what was going on.

"I'm not stupid, Veronica." Logan said. "Did you think we didn't have the place wired up with security cameras? By the way, Maria would like to thank you for the vacation she's getting in the unemployment line. I fired the stupid cook for letting you on the grounds. By the way, one of Weevil's gang members is her cousin. I doubt they'll like that. Look for a visit from the PCHers tomorrow."

"Wow, because we all know how well I respond to threats," I said.

"Cool down, Mr. Echolls," the lawyer said. "Miss Mars. If you give the tapes back I may -- and I stress that word, may -- be able to persuade my client to not press charges."

"Good luck on that," Logan muttered.

"You're not helping, Mr. Echolls. Well, Miss Mars?"

I reached back into the drawer when Vanessa said, "Hold on there, Echolls. If I don't have the tapes, I'll just tell everyone that story about your mother. Enough people will believe me."

"No, they won't," I said, reaching inside my desk for a tiny digital recorder. A quick rewind and "I guessed that Echolls would pay a lot to protect his mother, even from a fake story like mine," came from the speaker.

Vanessa looked first at me, then at Logan. "Son of a --"

"Now, now, Vanessa, no cursing. You're in the presence of a Machiavelli." He have me a patented Logan Echolls half-grin.

Before Vanessa exploded, the lawyer said "Mr. Echolls does have a proposition for you, though, Miss Mencken."

"What," she asked suspiciously, glaring equally at me and Logan.

"Simple. He gives you the tapes. You in turn sign," he pulled a sheet out of the attache case he was carrying, "This document."

Vanessa grabbed it from him and read over it. "You're kidding. This admits I tried to blackmail you by lying about your mother."

"If you'll check a little further down, extortionist mine," Logan said, "You'll notice that I can only make this public if you break the agreement first. Otherwise it can stay locked in the lawyer's files for all eternity for all I care."

"Look," I told Vanessa. "This way everyone wins. You get the tapes. Logan gets to protect his mother. The lawyer gets his fees. Everyone's happy."

She read over it again, signed, and said, "Now give me the damn tapes." After Logan and the lawyer signed -- the lawyer had to, as Logan wasn't yet of age -- I handed Vanessa the tapes. She went without another word, slamming the Mars Investigations front door as she left.

Logan and I looked at each other and started laughing.

And the lawyer said, "While I do appreciate the humor in all of this, I would like to point out that with the contract this actually does qualify as legal work."

"Hold on, Cliff," I said. "Logan, pay the man." Logan gave me a look and I said, "He was _your_ attorney."

Cliff took the check, saluted, and said, "Always a pleasure, Veronica," as he turned around and left the office, whistling.

Logan and I started laughing again, and we didn't stop until he sat down. "So, he said," time for that talk we were discussing?"

"What the hell. I'm on a roll."


	13. Chapter 13

At last! The conversation!

Disclaimer: Nope, still 'tain't mine. Unfortunately.

X X X X X

"Before we actually try to settle our issues," I said. "I have an odd favor to ask you may not like."

"Sounds promising," Logan said.

"Have you actually burned the poolhouse or the tapes?" He said no. "Don't. Not until I get a chance to look through them again."

"Why?"

"When I went through the drawers, I noticed that a couple of them were missing. Something about that bothered me."

Logan said, "Someone else probably had Vanessa's brilliant idea: Take them and sell them."

I shook my head no. "Then why haven't we seen them already? Just don't burn them. Please."

"What the hell," Logan said. "They'll make as pretty a bonfire in a week as they will tonight."

"Thanks." Then a silence fell over the Mars Investigations lobby then. "So," I said, "This isn't awkward . . ."

"This may have been a dumb idea," Logan said. "Who says we need to explore everything, anyway? Let's just let things stay how they are."

"How are they?"

"Get this, Veronica," Logan said. "I'm not a 'heart-to-heart' guy. Daddy Dearest only ever wanted to know what I was feeling when it agreed with what he thought I should be feeling. And Mom – well, she tried."

And failed, were the obvious next words, but Logan didn't say them. I said, "Me neither, really. Except with my Dad." The last good guy on the planet. "So, how are they?" I repeated. Logan wasn't getting out of this unless he bolted.

Of course, knowing Logan . .

But wait. That was the point. I didn't know Logan. Not anymore.

"Complicated." Well, duh.

"Do you think you're getting away with that one-word answer, Echolls?"

"If I said yes, would you let me?" I just glared. "Didn't think so. Look. There's an elephant in the room. Whatever we might say, it all comes back to that."

"Lilly."

"Lilly."

I knew the answer, but I had to ask the question. "So why did you start hating me after that? It can't have been just because my Dad was going after the Kanes."

"Didn't help. And remember, I never hated you."

"Then you're a better actor than your father ever was, because you? Pretty good with the insults and nasty shots. Now, why?"

"Because I blamed you for Lilly being dead."

I knew this, but I played along. "Huh?"

"Here's the scenario, Mars. I didn't bring my slide projector so just try to follow along." I nodded. "You saw me kissing Yolanda Hamilton at that party. You told Lilly. Lilly dumped me. So I wasn't around when the bastard killed her. If I'd been there –"

"If you'd been there, maybe you would be dead too," I said.

"Good to see you're up on the list of SVU clichés. Nice touch." He took a breath. "I know that. There have been times over the last year and a half that I would have preferred it that way."

"So you blame me for Lilly being dead."

"Not just you. I blame myself for having been weak, and Lilly for being such a bitch about it. But that's the way it was with Lilly Kane. She could go out, sleep around, wink at me and then expect everything to be forgiven."

I said, "And you forgave her."

"We all did. It was part of the Lilly Kane magic."

"So," I said after another short period of silence, "What do you want from me? Because I don't think I owe you an apology."

"You don't. You owe Lilly the apology."

That was a low blow. "Which is why I'm trying to find out who killed her!" I said a bit angrily

Logan said, "Calm down, Veronica. You asked." I took a deep breath. He was right. And he wasn't, by and large, being that snarky Logan we all know and loathe. "What I'd like from you," he said, "Is an acknowledgement."

"You want me," I began, "to acknowledge that me telling Lilly about your makeout session with Yolanda is what led to her being dead." I shook my head." I can't do that, Logan. Not if you get up and walk out. Not if we go back to being Benson and Kraus. Not even if you threaten to leap off the Coronado Bridge if I don't. Because I'm not responsible." I stood up and leaned forward, "And you're not, either. And neither is Lilly."

"If you hadn't told Lilly –"

"Maybe she would have broken up with you because she didn't like the cologne you were wearing. Or because you forgot to buy her white gold jewelry instead of the regular stuff. Or maybe you wouldn't have broken up at all. I love Lilly, Logan. She was my best friend. But capricious? The girl's middle name. What led to her being dead is whoever smashed her skull in. I didn't do it. You didn't do it. And as suicides go, it's one of the more impossible ones, right up there with strangling yourself. "

"You're an easier target."

"Don't I know it."

After another brief silence, "I'm glad you believe I didn't do it."

"One, I know you. Attacking someone going after your mom or someone else you care about? Your thing. Attacking a woman, even one who treated you like Lilly? Not so much. That crowbar you had on the beach in September was used on my car, not my skull. And two, my alibi's not as good as yours, and I was with the Sheriff of Neptune. You? Kind of hard to make it back from Mexico that fast unless you're a member of Starfleet or your real name's Clark Kent."

"Since this is designated air-clearing time," Logan said, "There's something else I need to say."

Suspiciously, I asked, "What?"

"I don't have an alibi."

"Sure you do. Dick and Beaver said you were in Mexico until that afternoon –" Logan was shaking his head.

"I asked them to. I came back because I knew Lilly was seeing someone and it was driving me crazy. I didn't know if I was going to scream at her for being such a bitch or beg her to take me back. And then I saw you guys at the pep squad car wash. I know you didn't see me. I was being all stealthy."

The last time I saw Lilly alive. "And then?" I demanded.

"And this feeling came over me. I don't know how to describe it; I just knew it was over. So I wrote her a note and left her a shot glass I bought for her in Ensenada, and then I got out of there."

"So you don't have an alibi."

"I don't. But I swear to God, Veronica, I would never have touched her –"

"I believe you." I had no idea why, but I was sure he hadn't killed Lilly. He had motive, he had opportunity, the means were easily available, but I didn't think he had. It wasn't in his character. And given that Logan Echolls had set up homeless men to attack each other, trashed my car and my reputation, that was going against my reason. Instinct, again. It didn't fail me with Mr. Rooks. There was just something about Logan's protectiveness that aroused the same instinct.

That stuff about the shot glass and the note I'd have to check without getting Dad suspicious. Which was going to be hard to do, seeing as how he'd booby-trapped his safe the last time I tried to go through it. But I'd hash that out later.

A look of relief washed across Logan's face. "I don't know why. I'd suspect me."

"Which is why I'm not going to tell anyone else about this," I said. "It makes you so obvious a suspect even Lamb couldn't help notice. Thank god, Abel Koontz is still in jail so the only ones looking are my dad and me." And usually only me.

"You're sure he didn't do it."

"Yes." I explained why, up to and including the fact that he was dying that I'd snaked out of his medical records. Why I told Logan, I have no idea. I hadn't even told Dad. But really, what was I going to say? "Hi dad. I found out Abel Koontz is dying by reading his sealed medical records. Can we have lasagna tonight?"

"Good work, Machiavelli," Logan said, clearly believing me.

"You know, as cutesy nicknames go? That one's not so hot."

"Sorry, Mars. You're stuck with it." We'd moved back away from the serious stuff into the realm of banter. "So, have we redefined our relationship?"

"You said we'd never be what we once were, Logan."

"We won't. But maybe we can be something different. You're hardly the Veronica Mars you used to be." He half-grinned. "And the change was long overdue."

Okay, there was one more question I had to ask. "Back in your house the other day, when you were escorting me through the house, I said "Take me, take me," and you said, 'Don't tempt me.' What did you mean by that?"

"I did not say that," he said, flushing slightly. Flushing? Logan Echolls wouldn't blush if he were caught naked in the girl's locker room. What would make him –

Oh my God.

"You meant it," I said. "You meant 'don't tempt me because you were actually tempted."

"Okay!" he shouted. "I'm attracted, okay? Does that make you happy?"

"Ecstatic." Logan was interested in me. "I can now torture you until the end of time." I grinned evilly.

"Or," he said, "I could get you attracted to me as well."

"Yeah, right."

He smirked. "Don't challenge me, Mars."

I smiled and said in my best flirtatious voice, "But you like it when I challenge you."

"Game on, then." He said, being deliberately overdramatic, "I will have you, Veronica Mars!"

I laughed. "But until then, friends?"

"What the hell." We shook hands and he left.

Well, there were worse ways the evening could have ended. Logan Echolls had a crush on me.

There was no way in hell he was going to succeed, but it was going to be fun watching him try.

In the meantime, I needed to find out about the note and shot glass . . .


	14. Chapter 14

To Jacedes: Her resolve may last longer than you think. Which is not to say that it will last forever. There is one more piece of Mars vs. Mars dealt with in passing here, and then we're on to the gap between Mars vs. Mars and Russkie Business. It may be a long gap.

Disclaimer: It belongs to Rob Thomas. I'm just borrowing them for the moment.

X X X X X

"Logan Echolls?" Wallace asked in disbelief at lunch the next day.

"Uh-huh," I said between bites.

"Has a crush on you?"

"Uh-huh."

"And he swears to 'make you his'."

"Uh-huh." I couldn't help myself; I started laughing.

"You're enjoying this way too much."

"I don't think there's any such thing as enjoying this too much."

"You're not tempted, are you?"

"By Logan? Not a chance. But I'm glad we've been able to come to a sort of truce. It's also good to know that my womanly charms are so powerful that I can ensnare even those who hate me, without even trying."

"God knows I've never been able to resist you."

I laughed again, knowing exactly what he meant. "And you'd better never start."

Logan appeared behind Wallace just then carrying a pizza. "Are my ears burning?" he asked in his typical tone. "Are you two talking about me?"

"Yup," I said. "But don't worry," I whispered. "Your secret's safe with Wallace."

"You don't have to keep it a secret. I'm not planning to." Logan moved around, put the pizza down on the table, and said, "Wallace would be you, then. I'm sure Veronica's told you all about me. Most of it's true." And then he held out his hand. Wallace, a little bemused, shook it. Then Logan sat down. "Want some pizza?"

"Uh-oh, Veronica," Wallace said, "He knows your weaknesses."

"Yes," I said, fluttering my eyelashes and using my best faux-Southern accent. "I just go mad for any man who buys me cheese-covered bread." I did take a slice, though. So did Wallace.

Of course, it did occur to me that just by sitting down with me in public Logan was making a pretty big statement. Which I appreciated.

It occurred to Dick Casablancas and Madison Sinclair, too, as they passed by. "Didn't realize you'd taken up charity work," Madison said. "You know, feeding the skanky."

Dick chimed in with, "Yeah, dude, what's up with this?"

Logan said, "Madison. Never a pleasure. And Dick. What is up with this is that I'm having lunch with a friend. A friend who can do more than discuss video games, surfing, and whose ass they plan on tapping this weekend. Not that those aren't a few of my favorite things. But it does kind of get monotonous."

"This is Veronica Mars you're talking about, right?" Dick said in disbelief.

"Right. Veronica Mars. The tiny charming blonde woman right in front of you. Wave to the nice folks, Veronica." I waved enthusiastically. Madison looked like she'd just been told to go muck out the stables. Though she always looks like that.

Then he made a production of turning to Wallace and said, "So. What do you do for fun?" When Dick started to protest, Logan made a dismissive gesture with his hands while continuing to stare directly at Wallace. "Shoo, shoo."

They left. After he and Wallace talked for a minute, he looked at me and said, "So. How's the campaign going so far?"

"A good start, Echolls. Still not going to work, though."

"Mmm-hmmm." We kept eating the pizza.

X X X X X

That day after school, I dropped in on Abel Koontz and let him know that I was in on his little secret. Then I headed home.

Over the course of the day, I'd tried to come up with a stratagem for getting a look at dad's evidence file. He'd no doubt changed the combination again; I didn't know any safecrackers; and he was smart enough to see through any fake reason I might come up with.

So I decided to ask him flat out.

Novel plan, huh?

I wasn't planning on telling him the truth. Not the whole truth, anyway. Logan was innocent, I was convinced of it, but this would make him look guilty.

I was in the middle of preparing dinner when dad got home. Tacos, this time. My cooking skills are all over the place. I can't make a cake hold up to save my life, but I can bake the best damn snickerdoodles this side of, well, wherever it is they make better snickerdoodles. A simple dinner isn't out of my league.

We discussed our days -- I explained what I'd been doing for Logan, having never gotten around to giving him the complete details. He spat out his water when he heard about the Aaron Echolls Playhouse. I told him Logan was planning to burn the place to the ground with the tapes inside.

"Good," he said. "I never really liked Aaron Echolls, sweetie, even when I was trying to track down who was stalking him. He seems to have fit the definition of 'not a nice person.' Did he ever, um, try anything --"

"Seeing as you're not on death row, I'd say not." I was exaggerating, but not by much. Dad might not have killed him, but he would have beaten him up, movie star muscles or not. It was one of the reasons I'd never confided to him that I'd been raped. The murder of a police officer is a serious offense, even as contemptible a human being as Don Lamb.

We ate for a bit longer and then I brought up the shot glass, and explained that Lilly had collected them. "This is just something I heard around school, without even trying -- that there was a shot glass and a note left in Lilly's car by someone who may have some connection to what happened."

"Or may have killed her, or may have had nothing to do with it at all," Dad said.

"True. Which is why I'm not making a big deal out of this until I know whether there's anything to it. If there is, I'll find out who it is and tell you flat out. And you couldn't do the investigation as well as I could because you don't know these people. And --"

"Okay, you can see the list."

"I can?"

"Sure." He stood up, came over and put his arm around me. "See how much easier these negotiations are when you tell me the truth?"

After we cleaned up, we headed over to Mars Investigations, where he made me stand outside his office with the door closed while he opened his safe. "Feeling the trust," I yelled through the door.

"I'm sure you are, honey," he shouted back. He came outside and showed me the list.

The shot glass was on it. The note wasn't. "That doesn't surprise me," Dad said. "If there had been any kind of note I would have found the writer."

"If you'd had the chance," I grumbled.

"I wasn't fired the next day," he said. "Anyway, you'll tell me what you find out?"

"You know it," I said. If Lilly had hidden the note, I knew where it would be. Getting to it was another matter.

After I got home, I called Logan and told him I was coming over.

"Giving up already, Machiavelli? Maybe I was wrong about you being a challenge."

"I'm not raising the white flag this soon," I said.

He said in mock triumph, "That means you will raise it someday. I'm winning you over!"

"Hardly," I said, laughing. "I just want to see the tape drawer."

Logan greeted me at the door when I got there and escorted me straight through to the poolhouse.

The fan had been ripped from the ceiling, and the bed and the statue were gone. "Love what you've done with the place," I said.

"Yeah, I was thinking of putting in a dog racing track, but darn those pesky zoning laws."

I went to the drawer and opened it. It started in April 2003 and ended in January 2004, with only a few breaks. He must have been taking a vacation from moviemaking then.

Let's see now, what dates were the missing tapes from? The first one before the gap was dated early September, 2003. The next one after the gap was the second week of October . . .

Oh my God.


	15. Chapter 15

Thanks for the continued reviews and good comments, folks. Keep 'em coming . . .

Disclaimer: Everything belongs to Rob Thomas. Nothing belongs to me except my actual words.

X X X X X

Was that your secret, Lilly? Were you having an affair with Aaron Echolls and did he kill you after you stole the tapes?

It all made intuitive sense. Aaron Echolls was a man who loathed bad publicity and didn't mind sleeping with underage girls. Lilly Kane would have slept with Aaron Echolls in a heartbeat if she thought she could get away with it -- and would have taken the tapes if she'd figured out she was being recorded. The combination could have easily ended up his beating Lilly to death by the side of the Kane pool. I could visualize it all.

And neither one of them would have wasted a single second worrying about whether it would have hurt Logan.

Why the Kanes and Clarence Weidman had been so heavily involved in a cover-up was, of course, obvious. They wouldn't have crossed the street to protect Aaron Echolls.

They thought Duncan had done it -- possibly in one of his epileptic fits. I very much wanted to rub the fact that they'd wasted everyone's time and gotten my father fired for nothing directly into their faces, but it wasn't the time.

I backed away from the open drawer, breathing a bit heavier than normal. "Logan," I said, "Come over here."

"I'm not really interested in a list of my father's Playmates of the Week," Logan said.

"Logan!" The sarcasm disappeared from his face. "Come here. I want you to look through this and see if you come to the same conclusion I do."

I got out of the way and he began looking through the drawer. "Yeah, he was home for nine months straight at this point except for some voiceover work for Justice League," he muttered. "He did the voice of one of the villains. Very appropriate." After a second, "What am I supposed to be seeing here?"

"The gap," I said, not trusting myself to say anything else.

"The gap," he said, looking through more closely. "There's a gap between the middle of September and the middle of October." He looked up at me. "You think my father killed Lilly."

"I do."

"It can't be him," he said angrily. "It can't be --"

"Of course it can," I said, and began to explain.

"Not what I meant. My father was a manipulative violent son of a bitch. He could. He hit me enough that I'm not going to waste a second wondering about whether he could have killed someone. But Lilly --" He stopped, on the verge of tears. I'd only ever seen him cry twice before. Once at Lilly's funeral, once in class after we found the video of Lilly's body on the internet. "Lilly -- do you really think Lilly --"

"Yes," I said. "I love Lilly. But she would have."

After a very long pause while we stood there and looked at each other, he said, "Yes. She would have." He laughed. "Of course she would have. How could any woman turn down the great Aaron Echolls? And how could any man turn down Lilly Kane?" He closed his eyes and said, "It wouldn't have mattered."

"What wouldn't have mattered?"

"You ratting me out to Lilly. Lilly loved me -- I know this -- but she wouldn't have passed up the opportunity. She would have found some reason to dump me so she could go play with my father for a few weeks, and then it would have been back on, and I would have taken her back. It wasn't your fault."

I'd always thought that, but it was good to hear Logan say so too. "Thank you." Then, after a second, "He hit you?"

"Remember the bumfights?" I said I did. Logan pulled off his shirt and turned around. "I got these up here," he said, touching his upper back, "from that."

There were scars all over his back, not just where he was pointing. Those would have gone a long way towards making Logan Neptune High's obligatory psychotic jackass.

He misread the look on my face. "I don't want pity, Veronica."

"You're not getting it," I said. "You're getting rage. If I'd known this I would have --"

"Would have what?" Logan said. "Would have turned him in? No one would have believed the great Aaron Echolls, star of stage and screen, would have hurt his little boy. No, I'd've been this generation's Christina Crawford if I'd tried. And you'd have been run out of town."

"If I'd known this," I said evenly, "I would have killed him myself."

"Three months ago, you would have laughed," Logan said.

"Not at this," I said. "Not ever at this."

Logan looked at me and actually smiled. "I do believe you would have killed him." The smile vanished. "So, what next?"

"What next. Good question." The problem was, while my intuition was screaming that Aaron killed Lilly, everything I'd found could just have easily been used against Logan. I explained as much to him.

"Of course," he said. "Now you and I know who killed Lilly and we can't do anything about it."

"We can't even tell my father." We couldn't. Dad would insist on everything being turned over to Lamb -- despire our shared opinion of his incompetence -- and try to get Abel Koontz cleared. Which he would do. Then Don Lamb, embarrassed and looking for someone else to throw into the line of fire, would take a live Logan over a dead Aaron.

Damn. There had to be a way to work this out. "I'll figure something out," I told him.

"I'm sure you will," he said. No sarcasm, no snark, no Logan attitude. Just confidence.

I liked that.

"The first thing we have to do," I said, "Is find where Lilly hid the tapes. There's only one place she would have, you know. You taught her that."

"Then we can burn them, too."

"No!" I said.

"Veronica, I don't want people's lasting memories of Lilly to be my father having sex with her."

"I understand," I said. "I really do. But we need those tapes to help prove your father's guilty, when we get around to it." He looked dubious. "Promise me you won't."

He gritted his teeth, but he made the promise. "In the meantime," he went on, grabbing another drawer full of videotapes and wrestling it free , "I have a long-overdue bonfire to plan." He carried the drawer out and dumped the tapes by the edge of the pool.

I helped him, carefully finishing up with the one with the gap. As I took it poolside, Logan went into the house. "Have to find that accelerant," he mumbled. I ran through the house carrying the drawer and put it in my car. Then I ran back and stood by the side of the pool.

Every other tape, plus the monitors, was there by the side of the pool. I moved anything else flammable out of the way; Logan was clearly preoccupied and making sure he didn't burn down his house in clearly wasn't his main concern.

He dumped lighter fluid over everything. Then he turned to me, swaying a bit as though he was drunk, and said, "Any words of wisdom, Veronica?"

"C'mon baby, light my fire."

He laughed, but there wasn't much joy in the laugh. "I think Sylvia Plath said it best." The next line he said as coldly as I'd ever heard him say anything, "Daddy, daddy, you bastard, I'm through." and tossed a match onto the pile.

I came over and put my arm around him. It seemed appropriate. He put his arm around me also.

And we stood there and watched it burn.


	16. Chapter 16

Okay, we're starting our approach towards "Russkie Business." Expect heavy plot alteration. And as always, the reviews are appreciated.

Disclaimer: Alas, it doesn't belong to me, but Rob Thomas.

X X X X X

As the fire died down – it took a while – I pulled my arm from Logan's back and said, "I think I should get going."

He took my hand as I turned to go and, gently pulling me back, said, "Stay. Please. No campaigning. I promise. I just – hell, Veronica. I just don't want to be by myself at the moment. I don't know what I'd do."

I checked the time. It was a bit past 9 PM. "Okay," I said. "But I have to leave by 10, okay?"

I helped him put out the fire and then we went inside. Cleanup could wait.

We went inside and I said, "So, kind of hard to come up with a follow-up act to all of that," I said.

"That may be the understatement of the century. But – could you do me a favor?"

"What?"

"If I dwell on it right now I'm going to do something stupid. So can we not talk about any of it? Not my father sleeping with Lilly or killing her, not what we're going to do, nothing. I'll want to spend the rest of the night getting drunk and stupid and I think that's a very bad idea right now.

"So what were you thinking of?"

From somewhere he produced a deck of cards. "I was thinking of getting even with you at poker."

I laughed, we sat down at a table, and we started playing.

X X X X X

That night I dreamed of Lilly.

I was sitting on the edge of a swimming pool in a black one-piece and Lilly, in a white bikini, was lying on an inflatable raft a few feet away. She looked at me and smiled. "C'mon in, dorkus, the water's fine."

"Like you swim!" I said, threatening to splash her. Lilly hated to get her swimsuit actually wet. She always thought the least appealing part of going to a swimming pool was, well, the swimming.

Though there was no one around watching Lilly, which was strange. Lilly always drew a crowd.

And then I remembered: Lilly was dead.

I looked over at her and said, "Was Aaron Echolls having an affair with you? Did he kill you?"

Lilly pulled down her sunglasses and said, "Oh, Veronica Mars. Who wouldn't want to have an affair with me?"

"You know, this 'doomed to walk the earth' thing really isn't as helpful as it could be."

"Yeah, I was expecting a little more Buffy and a little less Riddle of the Sphinx, but what are you going to do? On the plus side, though, I may be able to stop with the fashion advice: it looks like your own sense has started to kick in. Love what you've done with the hair." She lay back on the raft. "And you and Logan?"

"There is no me and Logan," I said. Lilly just grinned.

"If there ever is, I approve. I mean, you're not me, but you're the next best thing."

" What do I do next?" I asked. "I know who killed you, but I can't do anything about it."

"Isn't that enough to make you happy?" She said. "It makes me happy."

"It's not," I said. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry." She just grinned. "Just get in the pool."

"I can't," I said. "Not yet. After all, you're still walking the earth."

"Floating, Veronica Mars. Floating."

X X X X X

When I woke up, I didn't know where I was for a second. I looked around frantically –

And relaxed when I found myself in bed. My Lilly dreams almost always have that effect on me. Like all of them, this one had meant something, I just wish I could figure out what.

I remembered the rest of the previous night. Logan and I had played hold 'em until I once again had all his money, beating his two pair of kings and queens with my king-high straight (I'd had 10-jack in the hole, he'd had king-queen); then we'd come out and sat on the couch and talked about other things.

True to his word, Logan hadn't 'campaigned' at all. No flirting, not one remotely suggestive comment. Which had oddly made me respect him even more.

It hadn't actually been until 11 or so that I left, but I'd called dad explaining the circumstances. He'd frowned (yes, I could hear the frown over the phone; Dad's frowns are audible on Saturn), but he understood why. "But Veronica," he'd said, "Try not to get involved in any more impromptu fires. I don't want my next call to be from Don Lamb gloating about how my daughter's in jail for arson."

I'd given Dad a fuller story when I got home – but I hated having to leave out knowing that Aaron Echolls killed Lilly. I wanted to call a news conference the next morning and tell everyone.

But I couldn't. Not yet. Maybe not ever.

This is life, Veronica: There are no happy endings. Not for you, not for Logan, and especially not for Lilly Kane.

I'd lain awake for a long time that night thinking about what I'd learned. About Lilly, and Aaron, and Logan. The only thing I knew by the time I drifted off is how we were going to get into the Kane house to check Lilly's vent.

I looked at the clock. 4:45 AM. Too early to get up and do anything.

My head was racing far too much about far too many things for me to be able to get back to sleep. Around 6 I gave up, got up, took Backup for an early-morning walk, and came back and took a shower.

I was less than my best at breakfast that morning. Dad noticed and asked what was wrong; I told him I hadn't gotten a good night's sleep, which was true, but only part of it.

"Are you going to look for the person who may have left the shot glass today?"

"Absolutely," I lied.

He looked at me sternly. "Remember, Veronica: Identify only. I'll handle any questioning that needs to be done." I promised him I'd let him handle it. "By the way," he asked oh-so-casually, "Are you and Logan dating?"

"No. I mean, there was the all-night Marquis de Sade Appreciation festival we went to, but I'd hardly call that dating."

"Very funny, sweetheart," he said. "Now what's the answer to the question?"

"No," I said. "But he's trying to date me." He looked at me steadily. "Don't worry, Dad. I've got too much invested in my sensual-massage-and-smoothies fling with Kid Rock to ever start anything with Logan."

"I thought I told you to stop seeing Kid Rock," Dad said, but let it go.

Logan was standing by the front of the school. A banner that read "Total Eclipse of the Heart" hung over the doorway.

"Thanks," he said simply as I approached. "For last night."

"You know, if anyone overheard you, they might assume something entirely different from what you mean," I said.

He shrugged. "It's not like I care about my reputation. And it's not like getting a reputation for sleeping with me would make yours go anywhere but up."

I looked at him sharply, but he was obviously only teasing. "Yeah, I guess after the whole swimming team, the chess team, and Wallace AND Meg Manning in a threesome, you'd be kind of an upgrade."

"Kind of?" he raised an eyebrow.

"Don't push your luck," I said. "And thank you for last night as well."

The eyebrow stayed raised. "Why? You helped me; I didn't do anything."

"Which is why I'm thanking you."

He laughed. "My schemes are working!" he said melodramatically.

"That wasn't part of any scheme," I said. "I'm Machiavelli, not you."

We walked into the school. In front of the room where the "Total Eclipse of the Heart" dance was going to take place, Logan stopped me. "I think we need to discuss more what we're going to do next about what Aaron did and I didn't do," he said.

"I already know," I said. "We need to get into Lilly's vent. And right in there—" I pointed to the dance room – "is the guy who can help us do it." Logan looked in the room, where Duncan stood directing the room decoration. At his puzzled look, I said, "Sometimes the best way to be tricky is not to be tricky at all."

"Are you sure he can handle the truth?" Logan asked.

"No. So we won't bring up the murder investigation. Just the note."

We walked into the room where Duncan was telling some woman up a ladder, "Don't be stingy with the glitter. Remember. It's an eighties dance." He turned and looked at us as we came towards him. "If I didn't know better," he said, "I'd guess you two were going to the dance together." He actually seemed kind of happy about the prospect.

"Maybe," was Logan's response. "Actually, we have a favor to ask."

"Ask away," Duncan said.

Right then Meg Manning came up, dragged me off, and asked me to find her secret admirer, interrupted by a mysterious phone call where the caller did nothing but breathe. Out of the corner of my eye, I watched Logan and Duncan talk.

I broke off with Meg at more or less the time he broke off with Duncan. "Well?" I asked.

"We're in," Logan said. "We can go to the Kane house after school."

Me in the Kane house again. Well, that should be fun . . .


	17. Chapter 17

Still in Russkie Business territory, but you won't recognize any of the dialogue. An alteration occurs here. (Sorry, minor glitch in first upload.)

Disclaimer: All belongs to Rob Thomas, none to me.

X X X X X

"So should we take your car or mine?" Logan asked.

"What's with the presuming we'll drive there together?" I asked.

"It'll save gas," he said. I simply stared at him. "And it'll give me a chance to continuing weaving my magic spell around you."

"Ah-hah. I knew you had ulterior motives, Echolls."

"I always have ulterior motives, Machiavelli," he said.

"What the hell. I'm enjoying watching you try," I said. "But your yellow monstrosity, okay?" We couldn't take the Le Baron. I still had a drawer full of Aaron Echolls' do-it-yourself porn in my back seat and nowhere to stash it. I had an idea about that, though, and after Logan and I went our separate ways I made a call.

At lunch that day, I didn't even tell Wallace about what I'd learned the previous night -- I couldn't, no matter how much I wanted to -- though I did tell him about the bonfire. Logan did not sit with us today. He did, however, stop off for a few minutes' conversation and sarcasm along the way and took special pains to exchange pleasantries with Wallace.

Another point in his favor. Not that I'm keeping score or anything.

I also called Dad and told him I had to beg off doing receptionist duty that day "because I was doing my investigation into the shot glass and note." He seemed disappointed, but he understood.

I walked out with Meg, asking if she'd gotten any more messages from her secret admirer. She hadn't, unfortunately.

We collided in the parking lot when she turned and I didn't. "Your car's over there isn't it?" she asked.

"I'm not going that way," I said, "I have some business I have to take care of elsewhere." I pointed to Logan, who was standing by his X-Terra. Logan gave a small wave and smile when he saw us looking in that direction.

"Aha," she said.

"Aha, what?"

"Nothing. Just that you've been spending a lot of time with Logan recently -- and he did publicly blow off Dick Casablancas and Madison Sinclair so he could sit with you."

I said, "Yeah, he's on this campaign to 'win me over.' I'm finding it tremendously amusing."

"And you have no interest in him?"

I said, "Not other than as a friend."

"Uh-huh. Well, just have fun with your 'friend.'"

Then she walked off. I called after her, "Don't think I didn't hear those air quotes!"

"Air quotes?" Logan said as I started to get in the SUV.

"Never mind," I said firmly.

"I do have a bit of good news," he said as we pulled out of the parking lot.

"What?"

"Neither of the two elder Kanes is going to be in attendance. Jake's still at work and Celeste is off doing . . . you know, whatever kind of fundraiser rich women want to go to when they want to pretend they're doing something good and noble. Save the lesser spotted monarch shrimp, or something."

In my best piteous voice, I said, "Poor little lesser spotted monarch shrimp. They need our help so much."

"I made that name up, you know."

I gave him a don't-be-stupid look. "Darn. And I was going to contribute $50, too. Guess I'll have to use it for something more important, like food." After a second, "So, are you going to try to exercise those ulterior motives?"

"I thought I already was," he said. "You mean you haven't fallen for me yet?" I shook my head no. "Damn. I'm going to have to kick this campaign into high gear."

"If your hire skywriters to emblazon your love for me across the sky, your chances drop to zero."

Logan picked up his cell phone and flipped it open. "Memo to Hiram: Cancel skywriters." He flipped it closed again. "So I guess my plan to rent out all the billboards and beg you to be my snuggly-wugglykins are out?"

"So out," I laughed. "Though it might be worth it for the pleasure of seeing Dick and Madison have twin seizures."

Logan said, "Changing the subject . . . what do we do after we get the note?"

"I have to meet someone for another case," I said. "And you?"

"Not what I meant."

"As '80s sitcom as it sounds, I think we need to take things after that one step at a time. Let's get the note and the tapes first and we'll worry about later, later. Oh -- we do need to get Duncan out of the room while we get the tapes."

Logan nodded. "I have that covered." An expression of disbelief must have crossed my face, because he said, "Trust me."

"An alien notion, but I'll try it. As far as later goes -- Dad and I don't even have Abel Koontz free yet."

"You will," he said confidently. "I have faith in you, Machiavelli. Once you set your mind to something you're impossible to shake off. You're like a cute blonde leech."

"So now my choices are being compared to a cynical Italian political philosopher or a bloodsucking invertebrate. Not doing yourself any favors here, Echolls."

"I did say cute," he protested. "Besides, Machiavelli has a bad rap."

"How would you know?"

He looked actually offended. "Because I've read him. I don't just get those inspirational quotes of the day out of the nearest 'Chicken Soup for the Soul."

After a minute or so, I said, "I'm sorry."

"Thanks." After a second or two, he relaxed and said, "Some of my 'friends' have the intellectual depth of a wading pool. I kind of have to dumb down to fit in."

"You do a very good job of it." This time he could tell I was teasing; he just grinned.

We drove the rest of the way in an amiable silence.

X X X X X

Duncan was waiting by the front door. He seemed to be in a good mood. "Not surprised you arrived together," he said as he gestured for us to come inside.

"Well, I was going to fly in using my mutant powers, but I left my cape at home," I said. I asked him how the dance preparations were going and he said they were going fine. I declined to ask him who, if anyone, he was planning on taking. There's being friendly with your exes, but that kind of pushes it into the "stalker" category.

"C'mon," Duncan said. "I know you want to get in and out of here as fast as you can." He hustled us through the house.

"Fast, sure, man," Logan said. "But if I'd realized this was a track meet I would have worn different shoes."

Duncan stopped. "Too fast?"

"Just a little." We went into Lilly's room.

The place didn't look like it had been touched except by maids since she died. I could see her lying on her bed or rummaging through her closet, picking out clothes - -for me, of course, not her, since "I'm fabulous in anything I put on. I could come to school in army boots and a wedding dress and the next day? Everyone'd be doing it!" I could never quite persuade her to actually give it a try, though.

I reached into my bag for a screwdriver.

"You carry a screwdriver around with you?" Duncan asked.

"Comes in handy more often than you'd think," I said.

I dragged a chair over under the vent and started to remove one of the screws. I nodded to Logan when I started to take out the second and he took Duncan into the hall with him. They started talking about something I couldn't quite hear.

In the vent -- damn.

Some part of me had still been hoping I'd been wrong. But, in addition to a note -- which I confirmed was from Logan -- there were three tapes. What looked to be Aaron Echolls' writing marked the dates.

Sounded like Logan and Duncan were done. I shoved the tapes in my bag and began to screw the vent back on.

As they came back into the room, I hopped down from the chair, moved it back, and handed Logan the note. "That's yours, all right." I said.

"Did you read it?"

"No. Just checked the handwriting."

"Thanks." He folded it up and stuck it in his pocket.

We walked back to the living room and I nearly collided with Duncan when he came to an abrupt stop in front of me.

"Logan," I heard. "Good to see -- oh. Veronica."

I grinned. "Hello, Mrs. Kane," I said.

Guess the lesser spotted monarch shrimp was on its own.


	18. Chapter 18

Don't panic. Every road has a few unexpected curves.

Disclaimer: It is not mine, much as I'd like it to be. (Maybe someday when I'm fabulously wealthy . . . )

X X X X X

Celeste looked at the three of us. Clearly struggling to be civil, she asked, "And what are you doing here?" I'm sure in her head it came off like a neutral question. In the real world, it came across like she'd just found Marilyn Manson hiding in her azaleas.

"It's okay, Mom," Duncan said. "They were just coming over to tell me something."

Coldly, Celeste said, "What?"

"Well, Logan asked Veronica to go to the Total Eclipse of the Heart dace – you know, the one I'm setting up."

"I know. Go on."

"And they wanted to be sure I'd be okay with it before Veronica said yes." My opinion of Duncan's skills at improvisation just jumped several notches. That was a hell of a good reason for Logan and I to have come. "And I am," he said. "I'm totally cool with the idea."

Celeste nodded her head maybe a millimeter. "Yes. Yes, it was nice of them to do that." She looked in the general direction of me and Logan. "Logan. Veronica." Then she walked out.

"Bullet dodged," I said. "Thanks, Duncan."

"You're welcome," he said, smiling. "Now let's get you guys out of here before you have to repeat the performance for my father."

As we walked to the door, I said, "That was clever of you."

Duncan seemed puzzled. "Not that clever. Logan did tell me that in the hall while you were going through Lilly's vent." Then he smiled again. "And I really am happy for the two of you."

Logan looked at me a bit sheepishly. I told Duncan, "Thanks," in my best phony-happy voice, and all but dragged Logan off to the X-Terra.

"You. Told. Him. What?" I demanded.

"It was the best reason at the time I could think of to drag him out in the hall!" he protested. "What was I going to do, ask him for tips on how to get through the Auntie Poulet missions in Vice City?"

As we got into the SUV, I said, "This is going to get over school, you realize. It's not like Duncan's Carrie Bishop, but he's not going to keep it a secret."

"So?" he said. "Are you ashamed of the idea."

"No," I said evenly. "I'm pissed off by the blackmail attempt."

"No blackmail attempt," Logan said. "A little wishful thinking, maybe, but not a blackmail attempt. We don't have to actually go."

"Sure," I said. "And then I look like a heartless bitch for agreeing to go and then changing my mind."

"I thought your reputation didn't bother you."

"That doesn't mean I want it made the topic for a whole new round of dump-on-Veronica."

After an uncomfortable period of quiet, Logan said, "I'm sorry."

"I know. And I accept that. But this is a bit too big to be immediately forgiven."

"Is the campaign over?" he asked.

"No. But I'd advise against any immediate maneuvers."

He nodded. "Fair enough. About the tapes –"

"I'll look at them and get back to you," I said. "I assume you don't want to see them."

"I'd sooner watch a Golden Girls Marathon." We didn't talk for the rest of the trip back to the Neptune High parking lot.

X X X X X

Damn Logan for doing that. I have no idea what goes on in his head sometimes. Despite what he said, I'm sure part of him had expected me to simply go along with it. Or at least, had hoped that I would.

Would I forgive him? Probably. But I was too pissed right now to want to. There would be fallout from this, I was sure. I'd deal with it when it came.

For the moment, best to throw myself into other matters. Earlier today, I'd called the only person I could think of who could help me hide the drawer full of tapes.

Logan: No one else was home, but he kind of didn't know I'd saved this drawer. Mac, Wallace, Meg: their parents might find out and I didn't want to get anyone in trouble. Weevil: no one short of a SWAT team would get to them, but I'd rather not freak out his grandmother. Home was out for obvious reasons. For one, Dad; for two, it's not like our apartment has a whole lot of extra room. I couldn't have hidden the drawer in there at gunpoint, and I kind of wanted to keep them intact, in the drawer.

So that left this guy. I knocked on his office door and he told me to come in.

"Hi, Cliff," I said as I struggled through the doorway with the drawer in my arms.

"Veronica," Cliff said. Then, noticing the tapes, he said, "I don't care how many favors you've done for me, I'm not watching your family vacation."

"Not what I had in mind," I said, setting the drawer down. "I just need you to hold this for me."

"The U-Store-It down the street full up?" he asked.

"No. I need to keep these somewhere safe."

"And you immediately thought of me. I'm touched, Veronica, really. A little less convinced of how smart you are, but touched. When did I become the 'safe' choice for anything?"

"Since I either can't trust anyone else or don't want to drag them into it."

"But me you'll drag."

I grinned. "Well, that is kind of the nature of our relationship."

"Point." After a second, he asked, "So. Do I want to know what's on these tapes?"

"Probably not. But they're really important for a case I'm working on."

Cliff nodded. "Okay. I'll do it. But two things. One, you're a minor. So this isn't any kind of legal arrangement. If someone shows up with a warrant, I'll have to give them up."

"Of course. This is more of a favor than anything else. And the other thing?"

"You owe me one, now." I agreed that I did. "Good. Miss Loretta Cancun is in trouble again with the Neptune Sheriff's Department."

"Who arrested her this time?"

"Sacks."

I laughed. Sometimes it was easy. "Just show them the same tape as before. I'm stunned that they're letting Sacks go anywhere near the vice busts after that."

"They confiscated the tape."

"I have a copy. I'll get it to you tomorrow."

He reached out and shook my hand. "Pleasure doing business with you."

"Always is," I said, and left.

I liked Cliff. He may have liked to pretend to be sleazy, but he was really a halfway decent human being. I just needed to make sure never to tell him that.

X X X X X

I showed up at Mars Investigations right as dad was locking up. "Honey," he said. "Glad I caught you." He pointed to the receptionist desk. "We had a visit today from a Russian woman trying to track down her ex-boyfriend. I took down the information and told her we'd do a quick lookup for her – the $75 job, nothing fancy."

"And by we you mean me?"

He grinned. "That's my daughter. Anyway, the guy's name is Tom Cruz."

"Are you sure we should be taking money from a crazy person?"

"C-R-U-Z, sweetie. I'm not that hard up for cash. Anyway, do what you can?"

"Of course." I went inside and picked up the information, and then followed Dad home.

Wallace and I hung out for a bit later that night, during which I did my search – to Wallace's consternation – and I asked him if he'd do me a favor with trying to track down whether it was Caz or Martin who'd been texting Meg. (I suspected none of the above.)

After Wallace left, I looked at the tapes we'd found in Lilly's vent.

Yes, it was her; yes, it was Aaron.

I didn't need to see anything else. I didn't want to see anything else. I would have paid good money not to have even had to see that.

The next day Meg had a big bouquet of flowers in her locker and an invitation to the dance. I noted the type of flowers – fairly rare, so a clue – and promised her I was looking into the text messages.

"So what's this I hear about you and Logan going together?" she asked coyly.

I sighed. "Not happening."

She seemed upset by this. "But it's all over the school –I heard Dick say he'd have to do some kind of intervention to stop Logan from making such a horrible mistake."

"An intervention," I said. "Cool. I'm now up there with gambling, booze, and heavy cocaine use. My Dad'll be so proud. No, Meg. I'm not going with Logan. It was a misunderstanding."

"You don't hate him again, do you?" I had no idea why she cared, but she obviously did. Meg was just too nice to be real.

"No. Just one of those things."

"Well, Veronica Mars, you are going to the dance. Whether you go with Logan Echolls or not."

"I am?" She nodded. "Any other orders, general?"

She laughed, but said, "It'll be fun." I was still dubious. "C'mon, at least put in an appearance. I'll even help you with your costume."

"Alright, alright!" I said.

When I got back to the office that day, I told the Russian woman I'd had no luck tracking down Tom Cruz and apologized. She tried to get me to agree to look more, but I said that Mr. Mars was really too busy to do much of anything else and advised she look elsewhere in Neptune if she wanted to keep trying to find him.

Sadly, she walked off.

I don't know why I turned her down; we could have used the money. I guess I just wasn't in the mood to do anything more than help Meg.

And get together an '80s costume for a dance I'd been pressured into going to, twice. Boy, was this going to be fun . . .


	19. Chapter 19

Finishing off "Russkie Business." Another major plot alteration's a-coming.

Disclaimer: All belongs to Rob Thomas. Nothing belongs to me.

X X X X X

I did have to call Logan to tell him one thing; I got "This is Logan with today's inspirational greeting: The two most common elements in the universe are hydrogen and stupidity. Harlan Ellison. Leave a message."

"Checked the tapes," I said. "They show exactly what we thought they'd show. Just . . . thought you'd want to know. Bye."

When Wallace came by our apartment later that evening, he was in a surly mood. All he got was "a reputation as a jock-sniffer. You can be your own FF. I'm retired." When I pressed him for details all he would say was that Caz had "caught him."

Mental note: Blackmail Caz. Wallace is new to the basketball team. He doesn't need the hassle.

Then we actually got a chance to hang out for a while, because I couldn't do anything for Meg right then and I didn't have any other outstanding cases I could work on. We spent a fun couple of hours onTV, homework, and general conversation (he'd heard about Logan's and my "date" and wanted to know exactly what happened. I gave him the truncated version.)

He did say, "Dude is making an effort, though. I'd never heard word one from him and he's going out of his way to be friendly to me. And much as I'd like to think so I don't think it's my sparkling personality that won him over."

"Don't sell yourself short," I said. "You can sparkle with the best of them."

The rest of the time actually leading up to the dance was spent in a futile search for Meg's secret admirer. The florist was a no-go, Caz's party was a total bust, though I did corner Caz briefly and told him that if he told anyone about Wallace's snooping then someone would find out that he was throwing these parties in homes he didn't own. I couldn't come up with anything else.

The night of the dance, Meg showed up at my door dressed like Molly Ringwald. I'd decided to go as early Madonna. She had a wrist corsage her secret admirer had sent her, but she said she wasn't going to wear it. I got her to at least carry it with her.

Good thing, too. She got weak when we got to the dance and noticed that it was mostly couples. I persuaded her to put the corsage back on, telling her that while I hadn't had any luck actually figuring out who it was, I was somehow sure it wasn't the play-the-field Caz or the nerdy but nice Martin.

And that's when Duncan showed up and asked her to dance.

I could have kicked myself.

Not because my ex was into Meg. There was lingering weirdness, no question, but what annoyed me most was that I hadn't figured it out from Duncan's attitude at the Kane household. (This may be have been why I was so sure it hadn't been Caz or Martin.)

Duncan had been so damn sanguine about me and Logan hooking up. I doubt he would have been if he hadn't been focused on Meg.

I looked around and saw nothing but couples dancing. To hell with it. I've done my part, I've shown up, and --

A tap on my shoulder.

I turned around. It was Logan, dressed, of all things, like Indiana Jones. It was a well-done costume, too, with hat and stubble and everything. The only thing missing was the gun; Neptune High tended to frown on those. Still . . .

"Nice whip," I said.

"It was a choice between this and Tom Cruise from Risky Business. I weighed my odds at whether I'd impress you dancing around in my underwear and figured this was the better bet." He smiled. "Though I do have a killer set of legs." He gently took my hand. "Forgiven?"

"How can I stay mad at a man who saved us from several evil Nazi plots?" Then I looked at him seriously. "But don't ever do something like that again."

"I can't promise not to make mistakes, Veronica," he said.

"I don't expect you to. Just don't back me into a corner. Nobody puts Veronica in a corner."

"Damn," he said. "I knew I should have come as Patrick Swayze." Then he said, seriously, "Campaign back on?"

"Campaign back on," I said. "I assume Meg got you here?"

"She was a factor," he admitted. "She also helped convince me not to love that Old Time Rock and Roll." Then, "Dance?"

"Why not."

We danced through the end of Time After Time and through another song I didn't recognize. At the end of the second song, my phone started ringing.

I gently pulled free of Logan's grasp, went to the edge of the room, and answered it. "Hello?" I said.

No one. Once again, no one. I shut the phone irritably.

Logan made his way over to me. "What's up?" he asked.

"I keep getting these crank calls," I said. "Someone calls me and hangs up."

"There's this wonderful invention called Star 69.". I gave him my best "don't-be-stupid" look, and he said, "You've tried it."

"Almost every time. It just rings and rings."

"Are you going to try again?"

I put my phone away. "No. It's not worth the effort. They'll either talk, or they'll give up."

Gesturing to the dance floor, Logan said, "Back to dancing?"

I looked around the room. Meg, dancing with Duncan, spared some time for a "thumbs-up" gesture. Madison Sinclair gave me a disgusted look. "Naah," I said. "I think two's about my limit for the night. Not that they weren't fun." And they had been.

"It's working . . ." Logan said in almost a sing-song voice.

Was it working?

An honest evaluation would be a qualified yes. Despite his assholery of a couple of days back. Logan had grown on me, definitely, as a human being, by simply proving he could be one.

But was there an attraction there?

That was the big question, wasn't it?

"You don't have to go just because I am," I said. "Go out there and . . . whip it good, Dr. Jones."

"You do know what that song means, right?"

"Logan Echolls, you have a dirty mind."

"You're only finding this out now? Maybe you're not such a great detective after all, Machiavelli."

I laughed. Logan walked with me out to the parking lot, where I gave him a quick hug, and I went home.

X X X X X

Meg waved when I saw her at school the next morning. It was strange seeing her on Duncan's arm, but she seemed happy and he seemed happy, and that was the important thing.

She came over and talked to me. "So . . .?" she asked.

"So, what?" I asked.

"Well, you and Logan both left the dance at the same time, and neither one of you came back . . ."

"Sorry not to be able to titillate you this morning, Meg, but he went his way and I went mine. I encouraged him to head back to the dance. I guess he didn't."

"But, still . . ."

"Things are better between us. Does that make you happy?"

Grinning widely, she said, "Ecstatic, Veronica Mars. I'm going to make sure you're happy if it kills you."

It very likely would. And Meg would be grinning the whole way.

By noon I'd noticed that Logan, in fact, hadn't made it in to school that day. I mentioned this to Wallace at lunch and he said he hadn't heard anything about it. "Not exactly my circle," he said. "But I'll keep my ears open in the office and see what I pick up."

"I have trained you well, young grasshopper." I wasn't horrendously worried or anything – Logan could simply have gotten roaring drunk and was sleeping it off.

I learned differently when Meg and Duncan came up to me after school. "Remember a couple of days back when I told you that Dick Casablancas said he'd been planning an "intervention? He wasn't joking. He and ten other 09'ers took Logan back to his house from the party last night and there'll all planning to "turn him back to the person he used to be."

"That's not an intervention; that's kidnapping."

"Should we call the police?" Duncan asked.

I snorted. "Lamb would never believe me. Trust me, I know that from experience." I looked at both of them. "Are you willing to help me?"

Meg said yes, enthusiastically. Duncan said it, a bit less enthusiastically, but he said it.

I saw Wallace across the parking lot. "Wallace!" I called. "I need you over here."

He came jogging over. "What's up?" he asked. I gave him a five-second summary and he said, "I'm in. What do we need to do?"

"We need to pick someone up along the way," I said, "And then? And then we rescue Logan."


	20. Chapter 20

AngelMonroe: I've used your exact wording. Thank you.

Disclaimer: This is all mine. Mine, I say!

Well, I wish it were. It's all rob Thomas', folks.

X X X X X

Wallace and I went in my car, Duncan and Meg in his. I made a fast phone call and gave the person on the other end a thirty-second summary of what was going on.

"I'll be ready," they said.

And to their credit, they were. The pickup job took no more than five minutes, and then the five of us took off for the Echolls estate.

When we got there, there were two 09'ers I didn't recognize standing by the front gate. One of them – the woman of the two -- ran for the house while the other one said, "You're not getting in here, Veronica." In the distance, I could see four or five 09'er cars in the Echolls' driveway.

And then my mystery guest got out of Duncan's car and said, "We're coming in. Now, move, or I'll call the police." Duncan and Meg quickly followed her out of the car.

It had occurred to me. If Dick Casablancas and his partners in crime were roaming about the Echolls' grounds, there was no way in hell I was getting in without a parachute, automatic weaponry, or Batman. And I couldn't rent a plane on that short notice, didn't have my firearms license, and Bruce Wayne was otherwise occupied.

Same applied for Wallace and even Meg. Though Meg was an 09'er, she was widely known for liking me – and she didn't think too highly of most of her fellow rich folk, after the debacle with the purity test.

Duncan might be able to talk himself inside, but no way were Meg, Wallace or I going with him. And I didn't trust him to be able to do what was necessary by himself.

But there was one person who could get onto the Echolls estate with no problem.

The only person in Neptune, other than Logan, who actually belonged there.

Lynn Echolls.

I couldn't call the police. She, they'd listen to.

The 09'er moved. Ms. Echolls looked at me, smiled, and pressed a small remote she had in her purse. The gate swung open. Both cars pulled inside. I parked about ten feet in front of the gate, parallel to it, and gestured for Duncan to do the same. Blocking off the escape route. Not many 09'ers are going to want to crash their $25,000 BMWs through two cars or a brick wall just to get away.

Wallace caught up with the guy as he tried to scamper across the lawn to the Echolls' front door and actually tackled him. "Nuh-uh," he said. Duncan ran over to help control the guy.

I said, appreciatively, "Nice footwork, Fennel. Maybe you should be on the football team and not the basketball team."

"Naah, I like this pretty face of mine just the way it is."

Lynn and Meg got there last. "Okay," I said. "What's going on in there?" He said nothing. "Let me introduce you to my friend Mr. Taser," I said, pulling the weapon out of my pocket.

His eyes widened. Damn, sometimes it's good to have a rep. "Dick and Madison and a couple of others dragged Logan off after the dance last night and brought him here. They plan on taking him to Tijuana for several days of booze and strippers." Which, by Dick Casablancas standards, was actually a reasonably intelligent plan.

I gestured for Wallace and Duncan to turn him loose, and they did so. "Get off my property," Lynn said.

"But – my car –"

I held up Mr. Taser again. His car suddenly got a whole lot less important. He sprinted off down the driveway, climbed awkwardly over the fence, and ran off.

Lynn grinned when she looked at me. "This is fun, Veronica! What next?"

"Next we find Logan."

"I'll check around back," Duncan said, and he and Meg began jogging around the house. Lynn, Wallace and I went for the front door. Locked, of course, but she had a key.

There was no one inside. We'd taken no more than a couple of steps when we began to hear fighting from the back.

Wallace and I ran to see what was going on. Lynn, I was sure, would catch up with us eventually.

Dick and Beaver Casablancas were wrestling with Duncan, who seemed almost crazed. At their feet was a sleeping bag zipped to the top; only Logan's head was sticking out. He didn't look in the least happy. Most of the other 09'ers, including Caz and Shelly Pomroy, stood back in various states of confusion. Casey Gant was just standing there laughing, at who or what I didn't know and didn't care. Vanessa Mencken took one look at me and started running. Smart girl.

Meg was being held back by her ex, Cole; Madison Sinclair was standing nearby. I nodded to Wallace to go try and help Duncan, and went over towards Cole. Madison moved to get in my way. "Hi, Veronica –" she began.

I pushed my taser into her stomach, pressed the trigger, and pushed her to one side as she fell down. I was in no mood to trade insults. A lot more physical than I usually get but that was nowhere near what I was planning to do to Dick Casablancas if I had the chance.

Cole picked up on this and let Meg go, backing away. "I'd keep backing away, if I were you," I said. "Lynn Echolls is in there and she might be calling the police."

Cole wasn't that stupid. He ran off.

"You okay?" I asked Meg. She said yes. Good.

Wallace was unzipping Logan, to the glares of other 09'ers. He was still in the Indiana Jones costume. Wallace helped him to his feet and they staggered away.

What the hell had they done to him?

Duncan, meanwhile, had shoved Beaver into the pool in his fight with the brothers Casablancas and was starting to get the upper hand with Dick. As Caz started moving over to help Dick, Lynn Echolls finally came through the back door. She put two fingers in her mouth and blew the loudest and longest whistle I'd ever heard. Caz froze.

"I've just called the Neptune Sheriff's Department," she said. "Anyone still here when they get here will be arrested."

One of them yelled, "My dad could buy and sell them ten times over."

"So could I," Lynn said. "I bet me and the Kanes together can get a fair hearing."

"Especially when backed by the Mannings," Meg added. I didn't say anything. The word of a Mars in this town meant less than nothing to Don Lamb. But the word of an Echolls, a Kane, and a Manning versus that of a Casablancas, a Pomroy, a Sinclair and a Mencken? Lamb would have a seizure trying to figure out who he needed to suck up to more. Whatever happened would have to be played fairly.

In any event, Lynn Echolls' words had the desired effect. Within a minute there was no one left in the backyard but Logan's rescuers, Logan, the brothers Casablancas, and Casey Gant. "Didn't you hear –" I said to Casey.

"No, Veronica," Meg said. "He's the one that told me and Duncan what was going on."

When I looked at Casey, he said, "I really don't like brainwashing."

Lynn ran up to Logan while I went over by Duncan. Wallace, meanwhile, had grabbed a pool skimmer and was poking it at Beaver Casablancas, who was trying to climb out of the pool. "Stay put, Short Round," he said.

Damn. I really was rubbing off on him.

Then I went up to Duncan, holding Dick. "Look at the action hero," I said with genuine admiration.

"They were trying to drag him off in a sleeping bag," Duncan said. "I wasn't about to stand idly by."

"Dude!" Dick said. "We weren't going to hurt him or anything. We were just going to take him out and get him wasted and hook him up with some strippers." He glared at me. "Had to get him to stop thinking about you."

"Dude," Logan said irritably from his sitting position, "It would take more than that. As of right now, you and anyone who had any part of this are dead to me. Don't talk to me. Don't write me – like you could, of course. And that's assuming you and Beaver are allowed writing implements in prison."

"You know, I've always wondered," I said casually. "If your dad is Big Dick, what does that make you? And as far as thinking about me goes," I said, holding my taser in an area I know Dick loved and respected, "You'll be doing that for a while."

"No!" he shouted, before he fainted. Everyone except Beaver laughed. Lynn said, "I'm going to keep an eye out for the Sheriff," and walked back into the house. "And Veronica?"

"Yes?"

"Thanks," she said. "I owe you a lot now. Anything you ever need, ask."

Sure. Why not help me set up your dead husband for murder to make sure your son doesn't get nailed for it? Just a thought.

I went over and helped Logan into the poolhouse so he could get away from having to look at Dick and Beaver. "You okay?"

He snorted. "Yeah, they really didn't mistreat me all that much. Apart from zipping me up in a sleeping bag, holding me in the poolhouse against my will, and threatening to kidnap me to another country, I'd say everything was just peachy."

"They didn't physically hurt you, though."

"Well, I had to listen to Dick's attempts to 'intervene' – and Caz's, Cole's, and Madison's as well. Dick was saying, 'Dude. Veronica Mars?' I told him 'Dude. Every girl in the freshman class?' He looked at me like I was crazy and said, 'You say that like it's a bad thing.' So I could actually feel my brain start to dribble out of my ears. But no, they actually thought they were doing me a favor."

Despite the situation, I laughed.

"Look at you," he said. "Veronica Mars to the rescue."

"Glad you came out of it more or less intact," I said, then bent down and gave him a quick kiss on the lips.

Then a longer one.


	21. Chapter 21

Still in the gap between Russkie Business and Betty and Veronica. And thanks to everyone for the massive amount of feedback I've received. 100 reviews. Wow. It is greatly, believe me, appreciated. (BTW: Did people notice the massive plot alteration at the end of my changed RB? Just wondering.)

And don't worry: I still have mucho plot left to get to. Abel Koontz is still in jail, and Logan still needs to stay out of it . . .

Disclaimer: Not mine. Dammit.

X X X X X

When I pulled clear of the second kiss, I was thinking, wildly, about how this answered the question about whether I was attracted to Logan.

But, you know, I honestly couldn't have answered it until that second. Crazy, huh?

"I win," Logan murmured.

"You win," I said. "But make any jokes about 'claiming your prize' and you'll go right back to losing."

He smiled. A genuine smile, not a smirk, not a sarcastic grin. "No plans to say that. But I was half-expecting you to say something about this being the heat of the moment."

"You know, Logan, it was really just the heat of the moment --"

"Won't work, Machiavelli," he said.

"Damn." But I didn't mean it, and he knew it.

I leaned down and kissed him one more time -- a good, lingering, passionate kiss, not "I'm going to rip your clothes off right here and now" but pretty damn good. Then, reluctantly, we stopped and I sat down. "Are you up for a trip to the Sheriff's Office?"

Logan shook his head. "You kids and your slang."

I laughed, then said, "You know what I mean. Your mom did call Lamb and we're all going to have to swear out statements." Not a night I was looking forward to.

"Right," he said, "My mother." He laughed. "I'm beginning to think she might not be quite the fragile flower I thought she was."

"Lynn Echolls seems about as fragile as a brick wall. Maybe now that she's out of your father's shadow --"

"Maybe." He stood up. I came over, concerned, but he said, "Don't worry. Like I said, Dick and his pals didn't abuse me; they fed me and everything. The only thing I am is tired. But maybe we should be outside when our distinguished sheriff shows up."

He kissed me once more and clasped my hand, which is how we walked out of the poolhouse.

When we got back out there, Dick had regained consciousness. From somewhere, Meg had gotten a camera and was happily taking photos. When she saw me holding Logan's hand, she gave me a knowing grin.

Right then is when Lamb showed up, backed by half the Neptune Sheriff's Department.

He stopped in front of me. "Veronica Mars. I should have known you'd be nearby."

Lynn Echolls was five feet behind him. "Veronica Mars prevented my son from being dragged off to Mexico. Treat her with the respect she deserves."

Lamb muttered something inaudible -- that was a good enough straight line I wouldn't have passed it up -- and said to me, with exaggerated courtesy, "Miss Mars. If you and your associates would join us down at the Sheriff's Office at your earliest convenience, it would be greatly appreciated."

I grinned. "Now was that so hard?"

Deputy Leo -- I waved at him and he nodded back -- got stuck with pulling Beaver Casablancas from the pool and reading him his rights.

Lamb got to do the honors with Dick. "Richard Casablancas Jr.," he said, "You are under arrest for false imprisonment. You have the right to remain silent . . "

"Dude, you can't do this," Dick interrupted as he was being handcuffed.

"Dude," I said, "He just did." And then the brothers Casablancas were taken away.

Logan got inside and cleaned up, and then everyone involved started to make phone calls to let their parents know they were on their way down to the Sheriff's office.

Within an hour, the Sheriff's office resembled the trading floor of the New York Stock Exchange, only not as orderly. Me, Logan, Duncan, Meg, Wallace, Lynn Echolls, Jake Kane, Meg Manning's father, Alicia Fennel, Big Dick Casablancas, Casey Gant, Madison Sinclair and Dad were all screaming, yelling, and saying things at the same time. Big Dick threatened Lamb with another recall "like one that got rid of your moron predecessor" unless all charges were dropped. Dad grabbed my hand before I could say anything. Lynn Echolls said if the charges were dropped, she'd do the same thing. Jake Kane spoke up on her behalf. Meg Manning's father, I noticed, said nothing.

Madison Sinclair was screaming about how I'd assaulted her. No one was paying her any attention at all. I also noticed a lack of other '09ers there to back up the Casablancas' and Madison's versions of what happened.

Lamb took quick statements from everyone actually involved in the day's events and sent everyone home with the promise to call them in later. Big Dick Casablancas, Lynn, and Logan were still there as I left, the first two making threats, Logan just standing there quietly. I didn't have the chance to tell him I'd call him later, but I hoped he'd make the assumption, now that . . .

Now that he'd "won." I was going to have to do some thinking about that one . . .

But first, it was time for some quality interrogation time with Dad. I told him what had happened on the ride home. He asked a couple of questions but mostly let me maintain the narrative flow.

Once we got home, he said, "Now, Veronica, what have I told you about invasions?"

"Never get involved in a land war in Asia?"

My Princess Bride reference was apparently ill-timed. "I don't know," Dad said exasperatedly, "Whether to be proud of you for rescuing Logan, furious with you for starting a riot, or simply laugh at the idea of Dick Casablancas staging an 'intervention.'"

"I'd go with one or three," I said. "And I didn't 'start' anything. Dick and his friends started it."

He shook his head and sat down. "You're right. That's not fair of me. Honey. Tell me. What the hell were you thinking?"

"Lamb would have laughed and you were at work. I couldn't think of anything else TO do."

"That's because you didn't tell me what was going on," Dad said angrily. "I would have dropped what I was doing and come running over to help you – and it would have gone a lot more smoothly than getting Duncan and Wallace involved in a brawl."

I must have been close to tears, because suddenly Dad came over and hugged me. "Sweetie," he said. "Look. I understand why you did what you did. Someone you cared about was in trouble. I didn't realize how much you cared about Logan, but that's a conversation we can have later. But you usually know better than to charge in without thinking like that." He pulled out of the hug.

"I was thinking," I said. "I got Lynn Echolls involved."

"Probably the smartest thing you did," Dad said. "Look. Your motives were noble and everything seems to have come out okay. And you're giving Lamb conniption fits, which is always a plus. But next time –"

"What next time? Dick is going to jail."

"You know the way things work in Neptune. He'll be out on bail pending the trial – if there is one."

"There will be," I said. "Lynn Echolls? Not a happy woman right now."

"I noticed. She's a much different woman now that Aaron is dead."

"No," I said, "I think she's becoming herself again."

X X X X X

I made a couple of phone calls that night from my room. The first to the Fennels, mostly to apologize to Mrs. Fennel. She accepted the apology -- with bad grace, but she did accept it. "But Veronica," she said, "Don't get my son involved in anything like this ever again." I promised I wouldn't, and hoped I could keep the promise.

Neither Duncan nor Meg were answering their cells, but I did actually reach Jake Kane at home, who did not seem in the least upset. "I've always told him he needed to be more passionate about things," he said. "This might not have been what I wanted him to get passionate about, but it's passion. Don't worry, Veronica. I'm not mad at you." Then he added, "And Lamb won't sweep this under the rug. I can guarantee that."

Chalk that one up as a major surprise.

Then I called Mac to let her know what was going on. She'd heard about it already. "Everyone's already talking about it, Veronica. The Neptune High Online Forum is buzzing about your "daring rescue" or how "that bitch got Dick Casablancas arrested."

"I'm betting the latter outweigh the former by about 100-1."

"Surprisingly not," she said. "You've got a couple of 09'ers backing your version of the story. And someone took pictures of the whole thing and posted them to the thread. Dick in a dead faint at Duncan's feet. Some deputy dragging Cassidy out of a pool and putting handcuffs on him." God bless Meg. "What is your version of the story?"

She couldn't stop laughing when I was done. "You tasered Madison Sinclair?" she said. "Why didn't you call me?"

"You're not action girl," I said. "You said so yourself."

"To see that," Mac said, "I'd've been Lara Croft."

And finally, I called Logan.

"Hi," he said. "And how was your day."

"Oh, rescued a friend, kissed that friend, got an asshole arrested, got chewed out by my father, and had Jake Kane say something nice to me. You?"

"I was still concentrating on the kiss part," he said.

"Me too," I admitted. "So, what does this make us?"

"You're my snuggly-wugglykins, of course." I think he could hear my roll my eyes. "Let's not overanalyze this, Machiavelli. Let's just see what happens, okay?"

"Okay. Speaking of school –" and I explained what Mac had told me.

"Then let's face it together. Pick you up tomorrow morning?"

"Deal."

So, school tomorrow. This promised to be extremely interesting . . .

I wonder if Dad would let me borrow his body armor?


	22. Chapter 22

Still not quite to Betty and Veronica, Don't worry, more fun's a-comin' . . .

I also noticed I was mentioned approvingly in the thread in the Television Without Pity Forums. So anyone dropping by from there to read my fic, hi!

Disclaimer: The characters and situations expressed in this mostly original work of fiction, with the exception of Vanessa Mencken, belong to Rob Thomas. Any redistribution or other rebroadcast without the express consent of the Baltimore Orioles and Major League Baseball is prohibited.

Sorry, mixed my disclaimers there. But you get the idea.

X X X X X

Logan showed up the next morning right on schedule. Dad raised an eyebrow at the sight of his yellow X-Terra in the parking lot – "We still have to have a talk about that –" but otherwise wasn't inclined to press the issue.

I gave him a quick peck when I got into the car – then a longer kiss, though not long enough -- and then talked with Logan about what had happened at the Sheriff's Office after I'd left.

"Mom and Big Dick practically ripped Lamb in half with their competing demands. They got an "expedited bail hearing" and the judge gave them bail, so they didn't have to spend the night in jail, unfortunately. I was hoping they'd have to spend a night with the drunks and thugs of Neptune, but I guess their introduction to the joys of dropped soap comes later. The charges, however, stuck. One count of false imprisonment for the both of them."

"Can I tell you how much joy school is going to be today?"

"Wanna blow it off and go do something fun?" The suggestive tone in his voice made it quite clear what he was thinking of when he meant "fun."

"Tempting, Echolls –" and it was, and I was still amazed by that. Not only do you not know other people; sometimes, it seems, you don't even know yourself. "But no."

"Tease," he said gently. "Honestly, though, I don't think it's going to be quite as bad as you think."

I'm not sure whether it was us holding hands that provoke the stares, glares, and dumbfounded looks, or the stories about my daring raid on the Echolls compound, but it seemed like every single person we passed was looking at us.

The only person who actually came up to us, though, was Weevil. "Well," he said, "If it ain't Neptune's one-girl SWAT Team."

I held up a hand to stop Logan from saying anything and said, "It wasn't quite like that."

"Way I heard it," Weevil said, "You and your crew stormed the Echolls place, beat the crap out of everyone, and stopped Dick and Beaver Casablancas from tossin' your boy here bound and gagged into the swimming pool."

"Pretty much," I said. "So don't mess with me."

He laughed. "Wasn't planning to anytime soon. But V," he said seriously. "That took a lot of cojones, doing what you did. Wish you'd called me and my crew in –"

"The idea was to pull off a rescue operation, not start World War III," Logan said.

Weevil said, "True. We might not've been so respectful of people and property. Anyway. Good going." He walked off.

When we got to my locker -- well. This wasn't unexpected. A 4-letter word was scrawled over the outside of my locker. Starts with C.

No, not "cold."

Someone grabbed my arm. Meg. "Turnabout is fair play," she said mysteriously, and beckoned me and Logan to follow her down the hall. We did so.

Pasted to Dick's locker was a giant-size picture of him being led away in handcuffs. Pasted to Madison Sinclair's was a picture of her lying face-down on the Echolls' back lawn. And pasted to Beaver's was that shot of him being hauled from the pool by Deputy Leo.

I got to see Madison walk up to her locker to the general laughter of the crowd and rip the photo down.

"I love you, Meg," I said.

She smiled. "Thanks. But won't your boyfriend get jealous?"

On cue, Logan said, "Yes. Grrr."

Then Logan and I went back to my own locker to scrub off the thoughtful graffiti, only to find someone else had done it for me.

"I told you you had friends, Veronica," Meg said.

That Logan and I were a couple came as a surprise to almost everyone, but one distinctly less important than "Veronica Mars, Action Hero." I heard a bit of whispering here and there, but nothing especially malicious.

Lunch that day was a bit of a chore. The 09'ers seemed hopelessly divided. Duncan and Meg were anchoring one end of the area, with Casey Gant and several others around them. Madison Sinclair and Caz were at the other, as were Shelly Pomroy and Vanessa Mencken. Cole and several others were sitting at a third table and trying to look inconspicuous. The Brothers Casablancas were nowhere in sight.

And lucky me, there I was caught in the middle, just me and Logan and Wallace.

The consensus story going around the school, though, cast Dick and his fellow kidnappers as the bad guys. There was a strong secondary strain of "Veronica Mars is the bitch from hell," but I can deal with that.

Have been for well over a year now.

X X X X X

Logan and I kissed again for a few minutes when we got into the X-Terra at the end of school.

Then we thought about doing it all the way home while we discussed the fracturing of Neptune High's ruling clique. Some of the '09ers that were at the "intervention" were denying they'd ever been there, or pleading ignorance that they were doing more than "going to a party at Logan's." That could prove interesting if things ever came to a trial.

Then we got home and went into my room and sat down and spent another few minutes kissing. Just kissing. I wasn't quite ready for anything else.

In case I haven't mentioned it before, Logan is a damn good kisser.

I could feel myself being pulled into spending the rest of the day doing fun – oh, god, tremendously fun – but unproductive things, and with great reluctance I disengaged myself and told him we needed to talk. Not about our relationship. I'd agreed to just let things flow, there. About other things.

"We need to start thinking about how to prove that your Dad killed Lilly Kane, and not you."

"Why now?"

"Because you and I just got your alibi witnesses arrested." Logan swore. He hadn't thought of that. "And while Little Dick might be stupid enough not to try to deal his way out of it, Beaver's smarter than that and is perfectly capable of admitting he lied earlier to cover for you."

"I destroyed the note," Logan said.

"Smart man. Only you and Duncan and I even know that thing existed." My Dad thought it might. I needed to disillusion him, stat.

"And Abel Koontz is still in jail – and Dad's still trying to get him out. And there's no chance of getting him to stop, so don't ask."

"I wasn't," he said. "But maybe your dad won't be able to prove him innocent?"

"Anything I can do, Keith Mars can do better," I said.

"Which makes it my word against theirs –"

"Your word against theirs, and the shot glass," I said. "Since they dropped the investigation once Abel Koontz was arrested, they may have figured that was completely irrelevant. It may be sitting in the Kane house – or possibly have been tossed long ago, given Celeste's general disapproval of Lilly's collection."

"We'll have to ask Duncan to look for it," he murmured. "Make up some excuse."

"Good idea. But here's the thing. The tape of Lilly and Aaron -- they prove that your father was having sex with Lilly. But it's also motive for you."

"If I knew about the tapes. I didn't know about them until Vanessa Mencken told you, and you came over and showed me."

"Yeah, that doesn't help much. Me? Not the most reliable witness. We are kind of dating, you know."

"You want to go back to snark and sarcasm? I am a recognized expert in the field."

I laughed. "Too late for that now."

"I don't know," he said, leaning closer. "I'm sure we could come up with a few choice insults if we tried." Another kiss, this one long and dangerously close to dragging me into doing . . . other things.

"So," he murmured,. "We're dating?"

"Well, what would you call it?"

"I'm not so much in the mood to think about vocabulary at the moment."

More kissing. Yay. After a minute or so, I said, "We need to get to the living room."

"Why?" he said.

"Because right now we're in my bedroom and my father has guns and we really don't want to be in here when he gets home."

"Ah. Right."

And so we went out and sat on the couch and alternated between making out, making plans, and making fun of Oprah. Logan, it turns out, can do MST3K with the best of them.

I was laughing hysterically at his Tom Servo impression when Dad walked in.

"Hi, honey," he said, then stopped when he saw I wasn't alone. "Logan," he said, nodding. "Veronica, can we talk in the kitchen?" We moved into the kitchenette where he said quietly, "What have I told you about having strange boys over?" he asked with that patented Keith Mars style of mockingly asking a serious question.

"Make sure they're gone before you get home, and make sure they leave their money on the bureau."

"Are you two dating?" he asked.

"Now we are."

He nodded. "Fair enough. I want him here for dinner tomorrow night."

"I think I already impressed him with the length and breadth of your firearm collection," I said.

"Yes, but I bet you didn't come across as threateningly as I will."

"No one ever does."

"Damn straight."

"Why tomorrow night?"

"Because I have a tip about a bail jumper passing through Neptune and that $1,000 is mine, baby! Just wanted to be sure you were okay after yesterday."

"I am."

"Good." He kissed my forehead. "Gotta go. And Veronica --" he said as I went back to the couch. "The curfew still holds even though I'm not here."

"How will you know?" I asked.

"Backup tells me everything."

I looked at Backup, resting comfortably by the edge of the couch. "Snitch."

I explained about Dad's dinner plans. Logan shrugged and said he'd be there. "So," I said next. "What do you want to do now?" He gave me a look that told me exactly what he wanted to do now. So we did it for a few minutes and then I said, "Okay, what else?"

"Isn't this enough?"

"Well, we do have to eat . . . "

He had his cell phone out. "So what do you want on your pizza?"

"Mushrooms, please."

Twenty minutes later, when we were still exploring the many, many different ways we could come with of kissing -- there really are a lot of them, and they're all fun -- the doorbell rang.

I went to get the pizza.

The person holding the pizza was Clarence Weidman.

"Miss Mars," he said. "We need to talk."


	23. Chapter 23

Disclaimer: Rob Thomas owns all. I own none.

X X X X X

I'd sooner talk to Clarence Weidman than some people. Osama bin Laden. The Green River Killer. Timothy McVeigh. Celeste Kane.

Beyond that? Not so much.

"Sure we do," I said brightly. "So how much is that again?"

"Miss Mars --"

"Let me see, I think it was 9, 10, 11 -- and there's two dollars for the tip."

"Miss Mars --"

"And I'm so sorry your career being the Kanes' designated hatchetman didn't work out. Good luck in your new job!" I took the pizza and moved to close the door.

Weidman dropped the money on my floor and pulled out a digital tape player.

Oh, no . . .

My voice came out of it clearly: "We need to start thinking about how to prove that your Dad killed Lilly Kane, and not you."

Logan's followed: "Why now?"

Then me again: "Because you and I just got your alibi witnesses arrested. And while Little Dick might be stupid enough not to try to deal his way out of it, Beaver's smarter than that and is perfectly capable of admitting he lied earlier to cover for you."

"Like I said, Miss Mars," Weidman said, stopping the playback. "We need to talk. You, me, and --" he gestured towards Logan -- "Mr. Echolls." He closed the door behind him.

Logan had been watching the exchange between me and Weidman with interest -- and then, when he heard the playback, anger. He came up to stand next to me. "Veronica," he said with clearly exaggerated cheerfulness, "Why don't you introduce me to your friend?"

"Logan Echolls, this is Clarence Weidman. He sent my mom pictures of me framed in a rifle sight to get her to leave town." Angrily, Logan took a step toward Weidman. "Logan, no," I said. Hitting Clarence Weidman would be a very bad idea right now. Tempting, but bad.

"So I did," Weidman said. "I had my reasons, Miss Mars."

"I know those reasons," I said. "Jake Kane told you to."

Surprisingly, Weidman shook his head. "No. I never tell Mr. Kane exactly what I'm doing."

"It's called 'plausible deniability,' Veronica," Logan said. "That way on the off chance Mr. Excitement here is caught doing something he shouldn't, Jakey boy can go on TV and say, 'I'm shocked, shocked . . .'"

Weidman said, "Exactly."

After a few seconds, I said, "So. Should I assume the police are on their way? Or is this simply another one of your famous blackmail attempts? At least this time you're delivering the bad news in person rather than sending it via Federal Express." I added coldly, "When you absolutely, positively have to threaten someone's family overnight."

"I realize you don't like me, Miss Mars --"

"Not like?" I said. "Clarence, 'don't like' is how I feel about walnuts in my brownie. You I loathe."

The thing that ticked me off most was, he didn't even react. Clarence Weidman struck me as one of those people who would remain calm at the lip of an erupting volcano. "I understand that," he said. "But I didn't come here to do either of those things. I actually came here to help you."

"Somehow I doubt that. Because playing these tapes? Not exactly an expression of amity and good will."

"You said it yourself," he said, walking over to the kitchenette. "I am an employee of the Kane family. My job is to protect them and their reputation however I can. My job is not to protect the Echolls family, father . . . " he looked directly at Logan. " Or son."

"You said you didn't call the police," I said tightly.

"And I don't plan to," he said. "There's no point in confusing the Neptune Sheriff's Department with two suspects. They wouldn't know what to do with themselves. If Abel Koontz is found not to have committed the crime, though --"

"They're going to be looking for someone else. Me, maybe," Logan said. "Especially if Dick and Beaver decide to start talking."

"Or possibly in the direction of Mr. Kane. Or his son. The one direction they will not be looking in is that of a deceased actor. Even if that actor does have an established reputation for sleeping with underage women."

Something about what he just said hit me. "You're not covering for Jake. Or Celeste," I said. "You're covering for Duncan. His father thought he'd killed Lilly in what? An epileptic fit?"

Weidman looked at me. "How did you know --"

"You're not the only one who uses bugs, Clarence," I said. "Now obviously nothing we're saying now is going beyond the three of us. Well, four if you count Backup. But he's not talking. So am I right?"

After a second, he said, "You are. But you think he didn't do it based off of some . . . tapes you saw?" I nodded. "What was on those tapes?"

"No way in hell you're finding that out," Logan said.

I looked at Logan and said, "This man could get you arrested tomorrow if he wanted to. Much as I hate to do this," I said, "I think we have to tell him."

Logan looked betrayed. I was trying to help him. "Whatever," he muttered, clearly unhappy.

"The tapes," I said, "Show Aaron Echolls having sex with Lilly Kane a few days before she was killed."

"Motive for him. And motive for the younger Mr. Echolls."

"Right. So, once again. You're not here to blackmail us, but to 'help' us. So. Let's lay it out, Clarence. How do you plan on helping?"

"You stop looking to get Abel Koontz free. You stop looking for evidence to clear Mr. Echolls. Stop looking for your mother. Stop stirring things up, Miss Mars."

"And?" I demanded. I wasn't going to stop looking for my mother no matter what Weidman threatened me with.

"And, should your father be able to find evidence exonerating Mr. Koontz -- I don't expect you to be able to stop him -- then I will make certain that any subsequent investigation fails to find evidence pointing towards the younger Mr. Echolls. Any accusations of the Casablancas brothers will go uncorroborated. Other evidence could go . . . missing."

God damn it to hell.

I had no choice.

He'd backed me into a corner. And I couldn't get out of it.

I had a wild thought: Say, "Backup, kill." Because Backup would do it. And I don't care how good or fast Clarence Weidman is, or whether he has a weapon. Within thirty seconds he would be bleeding to death on my kitchen floor. And I would stand there and watch. That's the depth of the loathing I felt for Clarence Weidman at that moment. Then Logan and I could say that he'd forced his way in there and made threats towards me. Then my heroic dog had saved both my life and that of my boyfriend.

My daring rescue of Logan aside, I'm not known for my violent tendencies. So he probably wouldn't be expecting that. But even with that, he wasn't stupid enough to have come in here without some kind of contingency plan. And even if he was, I couldn't take the chance.

And I wasn't built that way. I'm not a murderer. I'm not Aaron Echolls.

But if I say I was tempted, does that make me a bad person?

He and Logan were waiting for me to answer. Logan, apparently, was letting me make the call here.

"No," I said. "My mother is no part of this."

"You would risk your both going to jail for that?" Weidman asked.

And then Logan spoke for the first time in a while. "Yes, she would. And so would I." He came over and put his arm around my shoulders.

He looked at both of us carefully. Then he said, "I will concede that point. I would hate to play poker with you, Miss Mars."

"You'd lose," I said.

"Then do we have an agreement?"

"Yes," I said. "Yes." I looked at him. "I hope you don't expect me to shake your hand."

He started to leave, then he pointed to the pizza box. "It's on me," he said. "And by the way, I think it's getting cold." I wasn't hungry right then.

Stepping over the money, he opened the door and shut it behind him.

I immediately ran into my room. Logan followed me, a bit confused. "Where is it?" I said. "Where is it?" I looked wildly around until my eyes settled on the panda pencil sharpener. I'd gotten it for a donation to some wildlife group. I'd never actually donated to the group.

I threw the sharpener to the ground and smashed it with my foot. Then I took the bug into the bathroom and flushed it. Clarence Weidman wouldn't hear anything else . . .

I turned to Logan. "I'm sorry," I said. "I'm sorry I had to tell him. That I didn't figure everything out in time. That I had to make that deal with the devil." I began to cry.

"Shhh," Logan said, holding me.

"I'm sorry," I said through the tears. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry . . . "


	24. Chapter 24

This section covers up to the beginning of Betty and Veronica. Once again, thanks for the reviews, the feedback, and the encouragement, and I'm really glad you're liking how things are going.

Disclaimer: I do not own Veronica Mars. I wish I did, though.

X X X X X

"You have nothing to be sorry for," Logan kept saying. "You have nothing to be sorry for."

But mostly he just held me until I was cried out. He kissed me a couple of times, but they were just to let me know he was still there.

When I finally pulled free, I said, "Yes. I do."

"I don't blame you for telling him about the tapes," he said. "Really. I do understand."

"No," I said. "That's not why I'm sorry."

"Then why?"

"I'm sorry because I couldn't protect you."

"Protect me?" He said. "Your Sydney Bristow impression aside, I never expected you to protect me."

"But I did," I said, looking him straight in the face. "Don't you get it? I made a mistake. I screwed up and now someone else has power over our lives."

"Everyone makes mistakes."

"I can't!" I screamed. "Bad things happen when people make mistakes. Dad made a mistake and got kicked out of office. Lilly made a mistake and ended up dead. I made a mistake at Shelly Pomroy's party and -- No. I can't make mistakes. I can't let people get hurt."

"I get it. You really are some kind of superwoman, aren't you?" Logan murmured.

I closed my eyes and leaned against him. "I have to be."

"No, you don't," he said. "No, you don't."

I looked up into his eyes and saw that he believed every word he was saying, both that he understood why I couldn't make mistakes, and that he would forgive me that I had.

He would forgive me my vulnerabilities.

I couldn't. Not yet.

But I was glad that he could.

I kissed him briefly -- then a bit less briefly. "Thank you," I said.

"You're welcome," he said. "For what?"

"For understanding."

"Of course," he said. Then he asked, "What was that about Shelly Pomroy's party?"

I wasn't ready to have that conversation. I pleaded emotional exhaustion and he said that he wouldn't push me.

Good. I didn't know if I could stand being pushed right then. Not by Logan, not by Dad, not by anyone. But I could tell from the worry on his face that he was going to ask again.

Something else to not look forward to.

We went back into the living room where I picked up my money, reheated the now-cold pizza and half-heartedly munched on it while watching more TV until 10 o'clock.

Then I told Logan he had to go -- "After all, Dad might be serious. Just because I've never heard Backup talk doesn't mean he can't."

He quirked a smile -- possibly the first time either of us had smiled ever since Clarence Weidman had shown up. "Of course," he said. Then we walked right outside the door, where he clasped both of my hands and said, "We'll get through this, Veronica." And for just a moment I was buoyed up enough by his confidence that I believed it too.

X X X X X

I managed, somehow, to fake my way through conversation with Dad that night when he came home -- at about 11, he sauntered in, whistling a jaunty tune. I guessed from that he'd cornered the bail jumper. Then I listened to his story and watched as he actually asked Backup what Logan and I had been doing that night. He made a show out of bending down and listening to Backup as though the dog was actually whispering in his head, muttering, "Uh-huh," and "Really," every couple of seconds. Then he looked up and said, "Backup said nothing happened."

Which would have been funny, of course, under other circumstances.

When I went to bed that night I dreamed of Lilly again.

We were in the Kane backyard, by the pool, just sitting there and talking.

"I told you I approved of you and Logan," she said, grinning. "Next time you'll believe me. I am a goddess. I know all!"

"Yeah, right," I said, grinning.

"So you're telling me that all of this --" she waved her hand over her entire body -- "Isn't worthy of worship?" I laughed. "You worship me," she said. "Logan worships me. Everyone worships me!"

I got off the lounge chair, got on my knees, and vowed eternal obedience to the great goddess Lilly.

"You may rise," she said, somehow being giggly and imperious all at the same time.

But when I stood up --

Aaron Echolls was standing right behind her. He smacked her across the head with -- something -- and she fell to the ground into a position I knew well and had seen repeatedly, in my nightmares.

That I knew this was one didn't seem to be making it end any faster.

"She's not worth your effort," he said, sneering. "I mean, she was exciting and all, but one piece of jailbait's just the same as any other to me."

I started backing away.

"Relax, Veronica," he said, suddenly jovial again. "I'm not going to hurt you. Why would I need to?" And suddenly he was right there in front of me. "You can't catch me, anyway. They don't arrest ghosts in this jurisdiction. Especially movie star ghosts."

Then he was right there in front of me and said, right to my face, almost in a whisper, "death becomes me."

X X X X X

My typical dreams about Lilly ended up with me tossing and turning and awake for the rest of the night. Toss in a surprise visit from nobody's favorite dead actor and I was lucky I didn't jerk upright screaming loud enough to wake up people in cryogenic suspension.

I did wake up Dad, thought, who was in my room in seconds. "Nightmare," was all I said to him. "Sorry."

He sat down on the bed and hugged me. "Oh, sweetie," he said. "It was Lilly again, wasn't it?" I nodded. "You've been having these dreams for a long time now. I think maybe you need to talk to someone about them."

"No, I don't, really," I said. "I'll be okay. I promise."

"We'll talk more about this in the morning," he said. "Now get some sleep."

Like I had any chance after that. My mind was racing at the speed of sound, thinking about how I'd failed Lilly and Logan and how my future was in the hands of Clarence Weidman and how I still hadn't found my mother and I was never going to find out who raped me and oh god Logan still wanted to talk about that and dad thought I needed a shrink and all of it.

Parts of me mentioned the good things that had happened. Saving Logan. Finding Logan. Fracturing the '09ers. Wallace. Mac.

But as usual, I wasn't listening.

X X X X X

In a way, the nightmare helped me -- it explained my haggard condition the next morning. Even a long shower didn't do much of anything to make me feel better.

Dad saw this and postponed the discussion he'd been planning to have about my nightmares. When it came to fatherly instincts, Dad was the best. (Of course, considering the competition in Neptune, not as much of a compliment as it sounds.)

Logan and I met in the parking lot that morning. "Looks like you had a rough night," he said.

"Nothing that a time machine couldn't fix," I said. "Look," I said as we walked towards the school. 'Thanks. For understanding. And for forgiving me."

"Someone had to," he said. "And you're clearly not ready to do it yourself." We stopped for a second. "Look. Are you up to this?"

"Of course I am," I said. "I'm Veronica Mars. I'm up for anything."

As we passed the flagpole, though, I heard a loud and obnoxious voice. "Dead skank walking!" it shouted.

I turned around. Dick Casablancas. While there were a few scattered laughs from the crowd, it wasn't nearly the reaction it would have been a month ago. Or even a week ago.

"So," I said casually, "How are things going for Neptune's newest criminal mastermind? Better watch out -- the Fitzpatricks might not like the competition."

"Look, Mars," he said angrily, walking towards me.

"I know, I know. You would have gotten away with it, too, if hadn't been for us meddling kids." Laughter from the crowd. More than Dick had gotten. He didn't seem to notice.

"You watch it," Dick said. "I know something."

"I think every teacher you've had since elementary school would argue with you there," Logan said, moving to get between me and Dick. I waved him back, just a bit, though he stayed protectively close.

"Dude, I was trying to do you a favor!" Dick shouted.

I shook my head, sadly. "Reality check, Little Dick," I said. "Taking someone's books home? That's a favor. Downloading some cheat codes? That's a favor. Kidnapping someone? That's a felony. I'm sure somewhere in your delusional mind you see yourself as the good guy in all of this. That's sad. The rest of us see you as the contemptible cockroach you really are."

Dick raised a hand, as though he were about to hit me. "Mr. Casablancas!" A voice yelled. Dick froze. Vice Principal Clemmons came towards the confrontation. "Back away from Miss Mars." The rest of the crowd slowly started to edge away.

"But she started it!"

"Mr. Casablancas," Clemmons said. "Your credibility is so low right now I wouldn't believe a weather report if you gave it. My office. Now."

Dick followed him into the school, though he shot Logan and me an absolutely vicious glare on the way in.

Logan and I parted at the front door to the school, with a couple of quick kisses. Then I went off -- I had an early free period and was going to watch Wallace in a little early basketball practice.

After the practice, as we walked through the halls, he got high-fives and admiring looks to beat the band. One girl came up to him and said, "Man of action on and off the court," in a seriously sexy voice and gave him the 'call me" gesture. Good to see him getting the love. Even if it was superficial, and from people who until he started playing hoops would have spit on him simply because he was my friend. Wallace liked it, though, and that was the important thing.

As we walked, we ran into Meg and Duncan canoodling in front of their locker. On balance I was happy for them. Maybe if I hadn't had this thing with Logan, I might have been substantially more weirded out. But as it was --

Right then I felt a tap on my shoulder. I turned around; it was Clemmons. "Veronica," he said. "My office. Now."

He turned around and walked away; I said goodbye to Wallace and followed him there. I'd been kind of expecting this ever since the confrontation with Dick.

But Clemmons did something that almost never happens: He surprised me. As he closed the door, he said, "Veronica, I'm sorry for what happened this morning."

"Don't worry about it," I said. "It's not like Dick was on a leash or anything."

"He is now," Clemmons said. "I've arranged things so that neither of the Casablancas brothers will be sharing classes with neither you nor Mr. Echolls for the rest of the year. I have also impressed upon them that they will stay away from the two of you while they're on school grounds."

"Wow," I said. "Thanks."

"Now then," he said. "I also have a favor to ask you." He went on to explain how Polly, the Neptune High mascot, had been kidnapped, and asked me to try to get her back.

I was so happy to do be doing something, anything, to take my mind off Clarence Weidman that I jumped at the chance. I barely managed to squeeze a personal letter of recommendation and an excused absence from gym out of him as my payment.

I left the office in a substantially better mood than I'd been when I woke up this morning. Not that that was saying much. But even if I wasn't feeling on top of the world, I didn't feel like I was stuck at the South Pole, either.

So. How does one track down a missing parrot, anyway?


	25. Chapter 25

More "Betty and Veronica." This may be the most controversial part I've written yet. Not for content, but for character behavior.

I hesitate to beg for feedback, especially given the tremendous amount I've received so far, but please, let me know if you think I've botched this one. I think I'm okay given the storyline I've established so far, but if I've wandered too far off character, I want to know about it.

Thanks much to ziebra, jacedes and buffybc for their opinions regarding the controversy.

Disclaimer: Veronica Mars and all of its characters belong to Rob Thomas. I own only this specific arrangement of words.

X X X X X

Just before lunchtime I caught up with Wallace at his locker. The "secret" of Polly's kidnapping seemed to be out by this point, and the rumors said Neptune's rival Pan High had done it.

"Look at this," he said.

"What?" I asked.

He showed me a stuffed frog on top of a card. The card read, "Go Wallace. We love you. You rock!"

"Wow," I said. "A frog and affirmation. Wish I played basketball."

"Actually, I'm kinda disappointed. Usually I get some snickerdoodles, too." Yeah. And I'm sorry I didn't get the chance to bake them. But last night? Stroking Wallace's ego with cookies didn't seem all that important. I still snuck him the card and the frog, because, after all, I do love him, and he does rock. "But," he was saying, "Still better than my old school ever did."

And it made Wallace happy, which even under the circumstances made me happy. I declined Wallace's invitation to lunch and made my way to the parking lot to head over to Pan High. If they took Polly? I'll figure it out.

The students there hated Neptune High almost as much as I did. I introduced myself as "Betty." Betty and Veronica, ha ha. Otherwise, I met a couple of jocks, the team manager, and found out that, in revenge, Neptune had apparently taken the Pan goat, Billy.

A parrot named Polly and a goat named Billy. The originality is staggering. All we need now is a dog named Fido.

When I snuck back out to the Pan High parking lot, I found Dick Casablancas waiting by my car.

I was less than ten feet away when I noticed. "Mars," he said viciously. "What the hell are you doing at Pan High?"

"Trying to find out who stole the Neptune High mascot."

He kept rambling, as though he didn't care about the answer. "I mean, I see you sneaking off school grounds in the middle of the day, and I'm like, great chance." Great chance for what? That scared the hell out of me. "But then you come here and I'm like, what is she doing here? And then I realize, I don't care. All I know is, she's off Neptune High property. Clemmons can't touch me."

"The police still can, idiot."

"Yeah, but they don't like you. I'm thinking they won't believe you." He started to walk towards me. "That Lamb dude, I mean, he totally hates your guts."

I realize Dick was capable of beating someone up. Way back when I'd cleared Weevil and his grandmother of credit card fraud, I'd heard he was one of the people in Logan's posse that was set to pound Chardo Navarro before the PCH'ers stepped in and took care of it themselves. Even after this morning, I hadn't realized that he'd gone totally off the rails. He wasn't thinking at all. Not that he'd ever been particularly good at it, but he wasn't thinking about trials or how this could affect him or Beaver or how this would make him look or anything. He just seriously, seriously wanted to hurt me.

Another mistake on my part. And this one could get me badly hurt.

I already had my hand on my taser. I pulled it out, but Dick was faster than I thought he'd be. He knocked it out of my hands, grabbed me, and shoved me backwards as hard as he could. I landed on my back on the asphalt about ten feet away. My head hit the pavement, but not hard enough to knock me out.

I'm not stupid. I yelled for help. After all, we were still in a high school parking lot. Dick could have waited until I was on the road back home or something, but he was pissed and stupid enough to try to come after me in public.

Richie and Curtis -- two of the Pan High jocks I'd chatted with earlier -- heard me and came running, as did a dozen or so other people. Richie yelled, "Get away from her!" as he got closer.

Dick backed away and Richie and Curtis helped me to my feet. "Betty," Richie said. "You okay?"

"Betty?" Dick said, laughing. "Her name's Veronica, dude. Veronica Mars. She's a Neptune High student just like me." Then he turned and ran back to his car.

Richie helped me to my feet and said, "You should see a doctor. And you shouldn't drive yourself home."

Curtis said, "But --"

Richie looked up at him. "Dude, she was just attacked." Curtis nodded, but he obviously wasn't happy. "Give me your keys," he said.

I made a character judgment right there that Richie could be trusted. I handed him my keys and pointed to my Le Baron. "Tell Coach," he said to Curtis. "Then follow me to the hospital. I'm going to need a ride back here. Curtis walked away. The rest of the crowd had dispersed when Dick had run off.

Richie helped me into my car and we began the drive back to Neptune.

"Are you really a Neptune High student?" he asked.

Well, there was no point in lying now that Dick had blown my cover. "Yeah. I was trying to figure out who'd stolen out mascot."

"No one's been bragging about it," he said. "Not yet, anyway."

"Can I have your number?" I asked. He looked confused. "If someone does start bragging about it, maybe we can simply trade them back."

"You know," he said, "You're a hell of an actress. You actually sound like you mean it when you say you hate Neptune High."

"I'm not that good an actress," I said. "Some of the worst days of my life have been spent in its shallow halls."

"So that's what this was about. You distract us while someone sneaks off with Billy."

I shook my head, then was sorry I'd done it. "No. I have no idea who took your goat. I don't care about these things any more."

"Then why are you doing this?"

"I'm being paid."

He laughed. "Now there, I believe you."

I took out my cell and asked for the number again. He shrugged and gave it to me, and I programmed it in. Then I asked him if he'd back me up if I decided to take this to the Sheriff. (No, I don't trust Lamb. I don't trust Lamb to arrest jaywalkers. But even he might have a hard time ignoring a dozen witnesses.)

"Of course," he said. Can I tell you once again how gosh darn lucky I am to go to Neptune High? 90 of the people there, if they saw me getting attacked in the parking lot would kick my body out of the way only because they'd be afraid if they drove over me it would damage their suspensions.

When we got to the hospital, I once again tried to plead that I didn't need to go in. Richie ignored me, waited until I was signed in, told me he was glad I was okay but not to come back to Pan High again, then left.

I told the admission staff that I'd fallen down in a parking lot and hit my head, which was true as far as it went, and I was feeling fine and could I go now?

The hospital said no and insisted on calling on Dad. Dad rushed over and demanded to know what had happened.

"And the truth, honey," he said. I gave him the whole story. By the time I was done, he was absolutely furious.

"I'm calling Cliff," he said, "And as soon as you get out of here we're getting a restraining order against Dick Casablancas."

I didn't even have a concussion; just a bump and a couple of scrapes, plus a nasty bruise on my elbow.

When we got out to the car Dad called Cliff and told him to meet us at the courthouse. I then made a call to Lynn Echolls – yes, Lynn Echolls – and explained what was going on and asked her to throw a little influence our way. Make sure the judge actually agreed to hear the case.

She said she would. And she did. We got an emergency hearing scheduled that evening.

Cliff must have drafted the restraining order in record time. When he showed up at the courthouse, he was almost out of breath.

"It's on me," he said when Dad tried to pay him. "I like making those rich bastards squirm every once in a while myself." But his concern for me was also clear. See? I told you Cliff was secretly a nice guy.

The Judge listened to me, looked at the medical report, and issued a temporary restraining order telling Richard Casablancas, Jr., to stay at least 100 yards away from me at all times. A permanent hearing would be scheduled for a few weeks later.

When Dad and I finally got home, he smothered me with fatherly love and attention, baking his special lasagna and everything.

In the meantime, I called first Wallace, then Logan, and told them what had happened. It was easy enough to calm Wallace down. Logan, not so much.

"I'll kill the son of a bitch," he said when I was done.

"No. Stay away from him. I don't want you to be the one getting in trouble."

"But –"

"No. Logan, no. Promise me."

"I won't touch Dick Casablancas," he said. "I swear. Happy?"

"Ecstatic," I said.

"I'm still taking you to school tomorrow," he said.

"I know what you have on your mind, Mr. Echolls," I said, trying to lighten the mood.

"Usually, yes. But now? Well, yes. But not so much as wanting to keep you safe."

"Thanks," I said, and meant it. We flirted and expressed our concerns for a few more minutes before Dad yelled that dinner was ready.

So, let's review. Aaron Echolls killed Lilly. Clarence Weidman controls my life. Dick Casablancas wants me dead. Logan wants him dead. Wallace wants snickerdoodles. And now I had to find Polly without actually being able to go to Pan High to track her down, thanks to Dick outing me in the Pan High parking lot.

It's true what they say: Just when you think you've hit bottom, someone hands you a jackhammer.


	26. Chapter 26

Thanks for all the feedback for the previous part; I have opted to keep it exactly the way it is. Thanks to all the reviewers who took time to answer my question – especially Mirethguilbain, who went above and beyond the call, but everyone's opinion was greatly appreciated.

In the meantime, we're still in a heavily altered Betty and Veronica: No Mom (and yes, I do have plans for Lianne Mars at some point), no diminution of college fund, and no way to sneak onto the grounds of Pan High. There will be no dialogue you recognize from that episode. You may notice something from another one, though . . .

Disclaimer: Rob Thomas'. Not mine.

X X X X X

Well, at least I could do something about one of those people. After Dad and I finished dinner, I stayed in the kitchen and started baking Wallace the snickerdoodles.

In the meantime, Dad and I watched Armageddon for the fifteenth time. The first time we saw that movie, we couldn't believe how absolutely horrible it was. We spent the entire time making fun of it. (The part where some colonel tells Liv Tyler that he'd like "To shake the hand of the daughter of the bravest man I've ever met" always has us laughing hysterically.)

It never fails to cheer me up.

Of course, right after the movie was over Cliff called. The judge had reduced Dick's restraining order distance from 100 yards to fifty feet, "so that Mr. Casablancas may continue pursuing his education."

Total elapsed time of being cheered up: Five minutes.

X X X X X

True to his word, Logan swung by and picked me up the next morning. I told him about the reduction in the distance Little Dick had to stay away from me.

"Are you sure I can't kill him?" he asked.

"Yes," I said. "You're too pretty for prison."

"True, true," he said. "Not as pretty as Dick is, though."

"Oh, he'll be REAL popular with the boys, I'm thinking."

"Of course," Logan said, "Even if he does get convicted he'll likely head to some minimum security place. Kind of a dearth of large sweaty men named Bubba."

"I'll settle for one," I said. "I'm not picky."

He laughed. Then he asked me what I was planning to do that night. I told him I was going to keep trying to find out who'd snatched Polly. He said, "No, you're not."

"Oh, I'm not?"

"Nope. Machiavelli and Sydney Bristow get to take some time off. Tonight you get to be just plain old Veronica Mars. You're relaxing tonight."

"Oh, I am?"

Looking over at me briefly, he said, "Has anyone ever told you you're adorable when you're faking indignance?"

"Oh, I am?"

"Oh yes."

"You're assuming I was faking." I was totally faking, of course, and he knew this from the tone in my voice.

"How can you be truly indignant at someone who plans to take you out for a really nice, long, relaxing dinner, followed by a walk along the beach?"

"I can find a way. You have no idea how indignant I can get!"

"That penis-shaped bong in my locker would argue otherwise . . ." I couldn't keep it in any longer and laughed for the rest of the trip to school.

We'd beaten the traffic, a bit, so Logan and I spent a wonderful few minutes doing things we hadn't been able to do at all yesterday. We were still having fun exploring the myriad and delightful ways we could come up with of kissing each other.

Reluctantly, we parted. "You working at your Dad's office tonight?" I said that I was. "I'll pick you up there at 6."

"Come in when you get there," I said. "Dad will want to make sure you're fully apprised of his ability to hit a target ten times out of ten with minimum spread."

"I'll pack my bulletproof vest," he murmured as we got out of the X-Terra.

"That's not where he'll be aiming."

As we walked towards the school building, there was a commotion up near the flagpole.

Logan suddenly grabbed my arm and said, "Let's not walk that way this morning."

A sudden, pointless change in routine? A guaranteed way to raise a red flag. I was about to protest when the crowd parted for just a second --

-- and I could see Dick Casablancas stripped and duct taped to the flagpole. A lot of people were taking pictures. Meg was among them.

Getting why Logan wanted to enter the building from another direction, I let myself be dragged off. He didn't want me to be seen anywhere near the scene of the crime.

When we were at a safe enough distance, I turned to Logan and said, "Did you have anything to do with that?"

"Me?" He asked with an air of innocence. "Of course not. You told me not to do anything do Dick, and I kept my word to the letter."

I figured it out quickly enough. "You called Weevil."

"I'm admitting nothing, Mars," he said, trying and failing to suppress a grin.

"You know," I said, "I'm not sure whether to love you for doing this for me, pissed at you for doing this for me, or simply shocked that you could bring yourself to call Weevil Navarro for anything."

"No sacrifice is too great for you," he said. "And believe me, if I had done what you suspect me of doing, Weevil wouldn't have needed a whole lot of convincing."

I can imagine he wouldn't.

"And I'd go with option number one. I am, after all, supremely loveable."

True, that.

A good portion of the morning was spent doing what I could to track down the custodians -- they would likely have been the only ones in the building when Polly was taken. Most of them hadn't heard or seen anything. One of them said he'd heard someone in the gym, but just assumed it was a basketball player in for early practice. Wallace said he'd ask around, see if any of the guys on the team had been there. He hadn't been there himself.

He was, however, thrilled to find a box full of snickerdoodles in his locker. The box read, "Wallace! Wallace!" Okay, so sue me. Coming up with cheers on short notice? Not exactly my long suit. You want spontaneous poetry, ask a Halliwell sister.

He even offered me a cookie. I took one and said, "Damn, Wallace. These are good. Whoever baked these really knows their stuff."

"Oh yeah," he said. "Have I mentioned I love this school sometimes?"

I love it when he's happy. I really do.

As I was walking to lunch, I heard someone behind me call out my name.

I turned around -- it was Beaver Casablancas. "What do you want, Beaver?"

He stopped about five feet away from me. "It's Cassidy. I wanted to say I'm sorry. For what happened with Logan. Not my idea, really. It's just that Dick has these dumb ideas, and I feel like I have to go along with them, because, you know, he's my brother."

"You could have told him no."

"No, I couldn't have," he said. "Anyway. I did want to let you know that. Also, I'm really sorry for what he did to you yesterday at Pan High. I can't believe he'd be that stupid. It's like he's trying to ruin our lives, or something." He took a step closer and said nervously, "Also --"

"What is it?" Beaver was less threatening than Dick, and probably was telling the truth about being pressured into it; still, I wasn't very interested in spending a whole lot of time in his presence.

"This is something you might want to know. For your own good." I made a go-on gesture. "Well, the weekend Lilly was killed, me, Dick and Logan were surfing down in Mexico."

"I know," I said.

"Well, Logan kind of got all worked up talking, you know, about how Lilly was seeing someone new. So he got up early that morning, the day Lilly was murdered, and drove back to Neptune to see her."

"Really." I said flatly.

"Yeah. Um, I just thought you should know."

"Well, thank you," I said, and walked off.

I couldn't believe it. Beaver Casablancas had just tried to manipulate me. While pretending to be 'friendly," he was trying to hurt me more than Dick had in the parking lot yesterday.

He couldn't have known that Logan had already told me that he was in Neptune. Otherwise, he very likely would have succeeded.

I was going to have to keep a closer eye on him.

X X X X X

Lunch that day was a revelation. The great mass of 09'ers were once again sitting at the same table – Cole, Caz, Casey Gant, Shelly Pomroy and Vanessa Mencken were all together. (Casey didn't seem to have alienated anyone. That might prove useful.) Duncan and Meg were off by themselves, but it seemed to be more their choice than anything else.

So was Dick. The only people sitting with him were his brother and Madison Sinclair. It had to be a shock for Madison to not have people come to do her homage (the way they were now doing to Vanessa Mencken, whose tapes of her affair with Aaron Echolls had appeared on the latest episode of Tinseltown Diaries).

Not that Madison had ever commanded the loyalty Lilly had. Lilly could be a bitch, but she was easily the most magnetic person I'd ever met. Madison had the bitch part down cold, but the only charm she exuded was physical.

That Madison was still hanging out with the disgraced brothers Casablancas meant one of two things: Either she was true-blue loyal – excuse me while I laugh myself silly – or she was still royally pissed at me for shoving a taser in her stomach.

Wallace and I had a nice, light conversation, touching on basketball and my Polly investigation. None of the players had noticed anything; none of them even admitted being in the building. Which meant whoever the custodian had noticed had been the thief.

Wallace excused himself early, walking off with an armload of food. "I'm still a growing boy," he said.

"Keep eating all that and you'll be growing in the wrong direction," I said, patting my stomach to make sure he knew what I meant. He laughed and left in the direction of the parking lot.

I headed off a bit early too, so I could stop by Clemmons' office and fill him in on the investigation so far. He wondered if I thought I could still figure out what had happened with Polly now that I was persona non grata at Pan. Sounding more confident than I was, I said, "Sure!"

He wasn't fooled – I could tell that from the expression on his face – but he didn't tell me to quit wasting my time, either.

Another surprise: As I left the office I got a call that caller ID said was from "Richard Andrews." I picked up. It was Richie.

"Hi. What do you want?"

"Someone delivered a hundred pounds or so of goatburgers to the middle of our school cafeteria. I was going to tell you something but now –"

"Whoa, whoa," I said. "A hundred pounds?"

"We didn't rush it off to the nurse's office to weigh it or anything, but I'd say at least that much."

"Damn, but Billy must have been a monster."

"Not that I'm an expert, but I don't think so."

"I'm not either. But it's going to take a lot more than one normal-sized goat to get 100 pounds of goat meat. Sounds to me like someone was trying to . . . get your goat." I couldn't resist the pun. So shoot me.

"So you think Billy's still alive?"

"Can't swear to that. But I'd bet that's not him." After a second. "You were going to tell me something?"

"Someone here does say he kidnapped Polly. I'm not going to tell you who. But find Billy alive and maybe we can make a trade."

We said our goodbyes, and hung up.

The rest of the day went smoothly enough; I went to do some filing for Dad after work and mentioned oh-so-casually that Logan was planning to take me out to dinner that night.

"You know I want to talk with him," he said.

"People in Botswana know you want to talk to him. I told him to come in when he gets here so you can do just that. You might want to start oiling your weapons, you know. Just for show."

"Very funny, sweetheart," he said. "You know I never oil my weapons just for show."

And soon enough 6 o'clock had rolled around and here Logan was coming in the front door of Mars Investigations.

This should be fun . . .


	27. Chapter 27

Yup, still "Betty and Veronica." It may be at least another full part after this one before we get past it.

Disclaimer: 'tain't mine. Still wish it were, though.

X X X X X

"Logan," Dad said.

"Mr. Mars," Logan said, shaking his hand.

"Won't you come into my office?" Dad asked.

"Am I going to come back out again?"

"Well, see," Dad said, grinning that predatory grin of his, "That all depends on how you answer my questions. Veronica, you did put in for that extra case of body bags, right?"

I glared at him to know his joke was not in the least funny. His eyes told me he was convinced otherwise.

"And Veronica," Dad said as he closed the door. "No listening at the door with a glass. That never really works anyway."

It was one of the longer seven-and-a-half minutes of my life. I was half-tempted to fake a phone call and tell Dad that a $25,000 reward bail jumper had been spotted entering the San Diego Zoo, but on the off chance he fell for it he'd be really miffed with me when he got back.

And no, I don't think the chance to see the koalas would make him feel any better.

This got me wondering: Why was I as nervous as I was? It was just my father meeting my date, it wasn't like I was in love with Logan or anything. After all, we've only been in a relationship for a week or so.

No, no, nothing like that.

So my nervousness must have been something else entirely.

Logan left the office, looked at me, and smiled. As we started to walk out, he said, "Goodbye, Mr. Mars."

"Have fun, kids. And remember. I know everything."

If only that were true.

When we got to the XTerra, Logan said, "Hold on a second," and pulled out. When we were well down the block, he said, "Okay, go ahead and ask."

"Ask what?" I asked innocently.

"What your father said to me."

"Oh, I'm assuming it was some variant on what he's said to anyone else I've dated," I said casually. "Strict curfew, keep her safe, and if you try to get past second base before she's 18 I'll have you killed."

"Actually, he said he'd be handling all killing-related activities himself. Otherwise, you nailed it. He also pressed me on what was going on in school with Dick and all of that."

"And what did you tell him?"

"The truth." At the look of horror growing on my face, he said, "Cool down, Machiavelli. You will notice I left the office by walking out the door, not by being thrown through it. He didn't even ask about the flagpole incident."

I relaxed. I should know better. "He also got into our year and a half of hostility and wanted to make damn sure I wasn't just toying with you."

Dad can pack a lot into seven and a half minutes. I'm surprised he didn't ask Logan what he thought of the last episode of House. (C'mon, it's not like there's anything else to watch at 9 o'clock on a Tuesday night.) "Did you manage to convince him you weren't?"

"I think so," he said. "I can't be entirely sure he's not running my name through some of your secret private eye software as we speak."

"Oh, he's not," I said. "He took care of that this afternoon."

"Damn. Then he knows about the five years I did for that bank job in Santa Carolita."

"Five years?" I said. "You're quite the boy wonder, Mr. Echolls."

I knew it was a straight line as soon as I said it. Logan wiggled his eyebrows and said, "You have no idea," in a voice that somehow parodied and oozed sexiness at the same time.

I decided to match it, just this once. "I'd just love to find out," I said, doing the best sultry voice I could pull off. Alright, so I'm not Marlene Dietrich. But Logan got the point.

"I see," he said. "This is all part of a plot to get me killed."

"Darn," I said, speaking into my blouse. "He's caught us, Moneypenny. Go to plan B."

"I told you: No secret spy stuff tonight."

"No, you said no Sydney Bristow. That was James Bond."

I did slip in one serious thing: How Beaver had tried to rat him out. Beyond that, it went like that all the way to Ocean Pride.

X X X X X

Dinner, as expected, was absolutely fabulous. Logan had specified nice, long, and relaxing, and we got all three, in addition to the best shrimp cocktail I've ever had. We talked about TV, movies, books, politics – it's kind of sad when the Iraq War qualifies as a light conversation topic -- and engaged in general and heated flirtation and innuendo for the better part of two hours.

Nowhere did the names Dick Casablancas, Aaron Echolls, or Clarence Weidman enter the discussion.

And then we left for the walk on the beach.

"You know, Echolls," I said playfully, "I never would've pegged you as a 'loves moonlight, puppies, and long walks on the beach' type."

"I'm not," he said. "But the chicks go crazy for it."

We stopped and I turned to look at him. "Oh, DO they now?" I asked.

"Hmm-hmm. They turn to jelly in my hands." He stepped closer until our bodies were touching. Somehow, I didn't think it was the beach or the moonlight turning me to jelly at that particular moment.

The next hour or so was spent standing there, sitting there, and lying there, doing all sorts of fun things with our hands, lips, and other parts -- and more, this time, than just kissing. I still wasn't quite ready for actual sex, but my willpower was sorely, sorely tempted.

Of course, so was Logan's. How we managed to keep our clothes on -- er, mostly -- is something of a minor miracle. But we did.

When we pulled clear for the night -- at least, long enough that we could make it home by my weekday curfew -- I said, "Wow."

"I rate a wow," Logan said, quirking a smile. "I was hoping for a 'hip hip hooray' or a couple of invocations of the deity of your choice, but I'll settle for a wow."

"Hey, bucko," I said. "Considering that a week or so ago you were only dreaming of a moment like this --"

"Repeatedly," he murmured.

I blushed, then went on, "Then I think a 'wow' is a pretty damn good rating."

"Oh, I wasn't complaining," he said.

"Better not have been," I said.

Then we spent some time brushing sand off each other and making sure our clothing was adjusted properly before we actually got into the XTerra.

Along the way, I thanked him. This really had been exactly what I'd needed: No business at all, no worries.

Of course, it was a temporary reprieve and we both knew it. But I no longer felt we were inevitably spiraling down towards disaster.

X X X X X

The next morning, it was back to normal. Logan and I discussed Beaver's actions of the previous day. While he was concerned about it, Logan wasn't quite as determined as I was to keep an eye on the little rodent. "After all, this is Beaver Casablancas. Not exactly the criminal mastermind of Neptune High."

"I'm not saying he's Professor Moriarty – just that it might not be a bad idea to check up on him. It's going to be fairly obvious when we show up arm in arm that I didn't buy his story – either that or that I'm actually covering up for you. He might try something else."

"Astounding, Mars!" he said in an atrocious British accent. "So tell me, how do you come up with such brilliant deductions?"

"You think I'm overreacting?"

"Yeah," he said, "But I'm not the master detective here. You think he's up to something, check it out. Put that super-secret PI software to good use."

When we got to school, we kissed our goodbyes and went our separate ways. It was time for me to get back to the Polly hunt.

Which meant, today, the Billy hunt. Assuming that the Pan High student who'd claimed to have kidnapped Polly was telling the truth, my best bet right now was to engineer a trade.

So if one of theirs kidnapped ours, one of ours kidnapped theirs.

I didn't get the chance to do more than surf the rumor mill until lunchtime. A basketball player had taken it. All the basketball players had taken it. Barbecued goat meat was surprisingly tasty. .) A group called SAAC – Neptune's animal rights organization, apparently – had taken both Polly and Billy and "set them free." Sometimes that was followed up with "and then Billy was hit by a car and Polly was eaten by a coyote." Ah, dramatic irony. And my personal favorite, Dick Casablancas had done it because even a goat was preferable to Madison Sinclair.

True. But it didn't help me much.

At lunch I got an unexpected break. While sitting with Wallace and a couple of other jocks, Wallace stole my raisins, two apples, and a bag of potato chips and took off briskly for the parking lot.

For the second time in two days? Once is weird. Twice is "something's up." And I doubted he was sneaking off for a rendezvous with his secret lover. I mean, a half empty box of raisins doesn't exactly scream "Be mine forever." So I followed him out there, and, long story short, he was feeding the Pan High Mascot in the back of Jack's van.

"I don't know what to do with it," Wallace said. "It's driving me crazy."

"Oh," I said. "I know exactly what to do with it. We're going to engineer a little prisoner exchange." Wallace seemed dubious. "Look. We're happy; Pan High's happy – I know, not your top priority – and I'll be happy. And you can stop dealing with the bearded crap machine." I looked at him with my best puppy-dog eyes. "You do want me to be happy, don't you?" He still seemed dubious. "You don't want me to flip my hair, Wallace."

"Okay," Wallace said. "But we better be able to pull this off." He closed the van door.

"Trust me," I said.

"I hate it when you say that."

"And yet you do it anyway."

"I need my head examined."

I called Richie on the way back into the school and we set up the trade. Wallace, Jack and I would go to Rest Stop 15 after school; Richie, Curtis and the guy with the bird would do the same.

I got in touch with Weevil and asked him to show up there too, "Just in case."

"'course, blondie," he said. "I was headin' up there anyway to do a little business. Anything nasty goes down, give me a holler."

Well: We had a goat. They had a parrot. We had Weevil. Everything seemed to be set.

Note that word, "seemed."


	28. Chapter 28

Sorry for the delays; the website has had some minor uploading difficulties.

Still deep in "Betty and Veronica" – and since I've fairly heavily altered the original timeline on this one, it'll be almost exclusively about the changed events of the episode. I also gave Arriana a last name and named the waitress who killed Aaron Echolls – I couldn't find them anywhere in established continuity.

Thanks, again, for the reviews. I'm amazed how many I've gotten and how popular the story is.

Disclaimer: Rob Thomas is the creative genius who came up with Veronica Mars. I came up with this particular story only.

X X X X X

While Duncan and I were working on the Navigator, we noted a long list of letters demanding Polly's safe return -- and a girl I didn't recognize came in from the student animal rights group and thrust a letter into my hands as "a little something for the uninformed masses."

I asked Duncan how soon he was going to get the Letters to the Editor page laid out.

"Why?"

"Because I may have something that might make them irrelevant."

"What?" he asked suspiciously.

I shook my head. "Can't tell you now. I may have an angle on getting Polly back, and I don't want you to be caught short."

"So based on something that might happen I need to hold the editorial page and the headlines? I mean, something like that would push our stirring interview with Custodian Joe right off the front page." Duncan Kane, master of sarcasm? When did this happen?

"Just letting you know. Your call what you do with it."

Logan caught up with me as we left the school building. "Want to play hooky from work?"

Tempting though that that was, I had to tell him no. Then I explained about the upcoming "prisoner exchange."

"Sounds like fun."

"It does?"

"Sure. You know me, Machiavelli; I'm just brimming with --" he raised his fists in the air and pumped them mockingly -- "school spirit."

"Uh-huh."

"Besides, you rode to school with me today, remember?" Like an idiot, I'd actually forgotten that. "So that means you ride with me or the goat."

"Let's see: Ride with a dirty-minded beast with a bad attitude . . . or a goat."

Logan smirked. "A dirty mind is a terrible thing to waste."

"You weren't doing much wasting last night . . ."

Right then Weevil walked by. "I'd tell you two to get a room, but the Sheriff probably has 'em all under surveillance." He still called Dad Sheriff. A lot of people in Neptune did. "C'mon, let's get this in gear. I got me some business to take care of." He looked at Logan. "He comin' along?"

"Yeah."

He shrugged. "Never hurts to have someone else around watchin' your back."

Wallace walked up. "Where's Jack?" I asked.

"He had something he had to take care of. But I got the keys to the van. We all set with the plan?"

"Oh, goody, the plan," Logan said with exaggerated glee. "Are we going to all go to the Coronado Bridge and do a big dramatic walk from both ends, Wallace leading the goat, some Pan High jock carrying the parrot? I can just see the headlines now: Pan High Goat leaps to death from Coronado Bridge. Goat was known to be depressed. Funeral services on Thursday. Please, no flowers. The deceased's relatives will eat them." I was almost doubled over laughing by the time he was done. Wallace was grinning too, but Weevil just looked irritable.

"Nope, just rest stop 15," he said, tapping his watch, "Time is money. Let's get this done."

Weevil got there first, Logan and I second, Wallace third. As per "the plan," Wallace parked by the far edge of the rest stop and stayed in the car, ready to get out of there on the off chance Pan High was getting tricky. He and I had a clear line of sight, just in case.

There were already a dozen or so people there; I got to overhear Weevil taking bets on the Pan-Neptune game. Amateur bookmaking. I shrugged and tuned it out. There are far worse sins in the world.

A Ford Escort pulled into the parking lot; I recognized Richie as the driver. He had two other people in the car with him -- Curtis, and someone I didn't recognize. Richie and Curtis looked a bit pissed. I didn't see Polly, but that didn't mean anything . . . yet.

Logan and I got out of the car. Weevil stopped taking bets and moved a bit closer.

The first thing Richie said was, "Glad to see you're okay."

"Yeah. My Dad got a restraining order against the guy who did it. And thanks for all the help." He pointed at Logan. "Who's that?"

"Hired muscle," Logan said with a straight face.

"And now," Curtis said, "Our boy Wilson here has something he'd like to tell you." Wilson looked like he'd rather be jumping off the nearby cliff than saying anything right at that point. "Wilson --"

Wilson muttered something so low I couldn't make it out. "A little louder, please," I said, "For the benefit of those of us without superhearing."

"I was making it all up, okay?" he said. "I never had your damn bird. I went to a pet shop and took a photo of a bird who looked like her so everyone would think I was cool."

"Congratulations," Logan said. "For two days of backslapping and attaboys you've just gotten yourself several months of dirty looks and rattails in the boy's locker room." He held up both thumbs. "Good job." No one, and I mean no one, could pull off snarky like Logan.

I looked over at Wallace and gave him a quick head shake. He left the rest stop and headed back for Neptune. Intelligently, he didn't screech his tires and pull out like he was about to be showcased on America's Wildest Police Chases. I don't think Curtis or Richie even noticed him.

Richie apologized again for wasting everyone's time. "I don't suppose we could still get Billy back?" A look from me told him otherwise. "Worth a shot," he shrugged. "Look. Believe me or not – I think I've played it straight with you so far – I don't think anyone at Pan High took Polly."

I thanked Jack, even though I didn't entirely believe him – after all, Wallace and Jack weren't exactly trumpeting over the PA system that they had a goat in the back of Jack's van – but it did get me thinking: Who else would benefit from Polly being kidnapped?

Maybe someone who didn't think any animals at all should be in captivity.

X X X X X

As Logan and I headed back to Neptune – Weevil was sticking around to do a little more business – I called Duncan.

"You got a headline for me?" he asked.

"Yeah: Veronica Mars Wastes Editor's Time. The Pan student who said he'd kidnapped Polly turned out to be lying through his teeth." Duncan made an exasperated sound. "I know. I blew this one. But I do have a favor to ask."

"Of course you do," he said. "What?"

"That SAAC student who brought in the 'free Polly' letter – what's her full name?"

A sound of rustling papers, and then: "Arriana Whitlock." Right. Then her parents would be Martin and Rena Whitlock, the mystery writers. '09ers all the way. But also liberal activists. Like parents, like daughter. It actually gave me a half-point of respect for Arriana. While her methods were dubious, unlike most of her spoiled-rich-kid brethren she was fighting for something she believed in. The only thing most 09'ers fought for was who had to bring the keg that night.

I thanked him and hung up, then called Dad to get their highly, highly unlisted number. "If you're going to use this to ask them if their refrigerator is running, I'm going to have to rat you out," Dad said.

"Naah; just seeing if they wanna buy shares in some Florida swampland."

"As long as I get my cut, sweetie."

When I hung up this time, Logan looked at me and said, "Aren't you just the busy little beaver?"

I grinned and said, "You're getting a rare look at how I do my business."

"Let me guess: You'd tell me more, but then you'd have to kill me?"

"Oh . . . I have better things to do with you than killing you."

"I'm sure you do. But not while I'm driving, snuggly-wugglykins. We're kind of on the edge of a cliff here."

"Okay, I'll wait till you stop the car."

"Before we go too far down that path . . . now it's your turn."

"My turn?"

"I had to endure interrogation from your father yesterday . . ."

I got it. "Lynn wants to talk to me about our relationship."

"Yup. The difference is, she likes you and she's always liked you. And she doesn't carry large weapons around."

"How's she doing?"

Logan sounded genuinely proud and happy. "Spectacularly. The reporters have drifted off and she's finally figuring out who the hell she is again when she doesn't have to be Aaron Echolls' chew-toy. She might even try to get back into acting herself."

"Sounds like Viola Kerrigan your father did a lot of people favors."

"Yeah. I'm thinking of getting her a Christmas card." Viola Kerrigan – the waitress who'd stabbed Aaron -- had pleaded guilty to one count of manslaughter 1 and was currently doing 12-24 years somewhere upstate.

"I don't know if Hallmark makes those."

"On the outside: Thanks for stabbing my father. On the inside: Now you understand why Santa's suit is so red."

"See, I don't see that selling well."

"Can't imagine why."

"And on that note –" I shushed him while I called Arriana Whitlock.

"What do you want?" she said after I introduced myself. "I know you don't want to join SAAC. You're just as complicit in the murder of cows and fish as everyone else is in this unenlightened town." I respected her passion, but she made me look like Miss Manners.

Well, that kind of limited my options to the truth. "I want to know if you or anyone in your group took Polly."

"Why would I tell you?"

"The goodness of your heart?" Worth a shot.

"The goodness of my heart tells me Polly wants to be free," Arriana snapped.

"Fine. Make that case. I'd love to hear it." No, I wouldn't, but she sounded like she was about five seconds away from hanging up and I preferred to keep her talking. "I'll interview you for the Navigator and you can make as strong a case for animal rights as you want." As many as she could in the space of 500 or so words. I'm sure I could convince Duncan. It would stir up controversy, if nothing else."

"You'll do that?" she asked, still suspicious.

"I'll do that," I promised. "If and only if you tell me the truth about whether you have Polly."

A silence from the other end of the phone, then: "Deal. But I get to talk about whatever I want."

"Whatever you want." Any cusswords would be edited out anyway.

"I didn't take Polly. No one in SAAC would have. We'd have no way of getting her to her homeland and freeing her and if we let her out around here she'd be lost and homeless and probably die."

I believed her. So. Pan High didn't have Polly. SAAC didn't have Polly.

Who the hell did?


	29. Chapter 29

Betty and Veronica gets finished off here, still at a bit greater length than most of the other eps. Then it's on the gap between this and Kanes and Abels . . . if there'll be a Kanes and Abels in this universe. I'm not sure, yet.

Disclaimer: Rob Thomas owns Veronica Mars. I own a cat, a ten-year-old car and some books. Maybe he'll trade.

X X X X X

I was stuck at the moment. I couldn't figure out who benefited from Polly's disappearance. If this were truly a random act of weirdness, I wasn't going to figure it out without the benefit of the staff of CSI.

Assuming it wasn't – I was going to have to operate on that in order to make any progress – I was going to have to wait for whoever took Polly to make either a ransom demand or a mistake.

On the way back to the office – I had some filing to do for Dad that evening – I asked Logan if he had any ideas.

"I have a lot of ideas," he said suggestively.

I laughed and said, "Focus! I meant about Polly. Who might have taken her, who's helped by her disappearance . . .?"

"Someone's little girl desperately wanted a parrot and, since they were poor, this was the only way they could get it?"

"I think I've heard that plot before. On every sitcom since Three's Company."

"What can I say, Mars? I was raised by television." He though for a second. "Maybe you should ask Weevil. He was taking a lot of bets on the game. And it's hardly out of character for him to try to fix this thing to make some money."

True, that. Weevil had a strong moral code, but this would have been right up his alley. Still, I couldn't see how Polly's kidnapping would help him fix a basketball game."

"I don't either. It's just a thought."

"And a good one. Sports betting? Not something I'm familiar with. I wouldn't have even thought of it. Thank you."

"Was that a compliment, Machiavelli?"

"Don't let it go to your head."

We made out for a few minutes when he dropped me off – promises of things to come – and then I went inside and got to work.

X X X X X

My thoughts about who took Polly had given me an idea with the Abel Koontz situation, too. Who benefits? Why would a dying Abel Koontz take the fall for Lilly's murder?

I debated about whether to bring it up with Dad, given my agreement with Clarence Weidman; but I only promised not to investigate it myself, not to not point Dad in the right direction. After Logan dropped me off, I knocked on Dad's office door and asked him the question.

"Veronica," he said a bit exasperatedly.

"I thought of it while looking for Polly. The Abel Koontz investigation's all you, Dad. But who benefits? Why would he confess to the murder if he didn't commit it?"

He sighed. "Money. Lots of money."

"Dead men spend no loot. So what does it matter?"

"Maybe there's someone else. Someone he cares about who can spend the money after he dies."

"There you go, then. Find that person and maybe there's another angle at proving Abel didn't kill Lilly."

He looked at me suspiciously, but said, "Not a bad idea, Veronica. You promise you're letting me handle it?"

I nodded. "I promise. Too much else to do right now. Parrots and Beavers and goats, oh my."

Then he grinned. "Then I'll see what I can find. Good idea, sweetheart."

I finished the filing up fairly quickly, and then did a quick look up of Cassidy Casablancas. No arrests beyond the obvious one, and the rest of his life had clearly been spent in his older brother and father's shadow. Extracurricular activities out the wazoo – including some time plating junior league baseball and some young businessmen's club, where he received high commendations – proof he was more athletic, maybe, then I'd thought, and something of a long-term thinker, but hardly indicative of a Lex Luthor in training.

Still. He could definitely be malicious. Malicious plus long-term thinker still indicated someone to be suspicious of. I'd never think of Beaver Casablancas as Dick's harmless and somewhat wimpy younger brother again.

That night, at home, Wallace wandered in while I was baking him some more snickerdoodles. After he expressed his amazement that I'd do this for him and I explained why, I said, "Can you do me a favor?"

Matter-of-factly, Wallace said, "Isn't that the bedrock on which our friendship was founded?"

"Get me Cassidy Casablancas' file." He said he would. "What? No questions why?"

"Would you tell me if I asked?"

"No, but I like to hear you ask."

X X X X X

The next day, I got the break I needed in the Polly Case. I was interviewing Arriana – and it had been tough convincing Duncan that the interview would be interesting, and for that matter, that I should be the one doing it. "You're not Chloe Sullivan," Duncan said. "No matter how much you look like her."

Surprised Duncan watched Smallville? I'm not. He'd had a celebrity crush on Allison Mack for years.

Still, I managed.

The interview was, to put it mildly, difficult. Keeping Arriana on a "why animals have rights and shouldn't be eaten track" – a legitimate POV, even if it's not mine – was hard when she kept sticking in personal comments like "And then there's those butch boots you're wearing. You do know a cow died so you could look fashionable, right?"

"If you think my aim is ever to look fashionable, you don't know me very well," I said. "Now: About pets. Why do you think . . ."

Then there a blast of static from the TV. Everyone turned to look at it.

It came from the Pan High gym, I surmised. The camera panned up past a par of shoes and Polly in her cage before it got to a man in a hood, who gave a fakey evil laugh and said, "Greetings from your Masters at Pan High. If Wallace Fennel plays in tomorrow night's game, Polly the Parrot will die. We now return you to your regularly scheduled program."

By this point I was convinced it wasn't someone from Pan High, anyway. I quickly finished up my interview and ran out to find Weevil. Now I knew how Polly's kidnapping would help him.

Weevil was ticked, but he did say that A, he had both sides of the line covered – I was embarrassed when he had to explain what that meant, but like I said, sports betting? Not so much experience there. And B, that he wouldn't have tried to help me recover the bird if he'd had anything to do with it.

So once again. Who benefits if Wallace doesn't play?

A talk with Wallace later and I had my answer. With Wallace out of the game, Jack got to play. Wallace also handed me Beaver Casablancas' file while I was there. Meg helped me run through the video of the ransom demand and a little tweaking showed a quite visible number "13" on the shoes; no points if you guess who, on the Neptune Pirates, wore that number.

That night I had the parrot and the goat in plenty of time to let Wallace suit up for the game. I wasn't entirely sure why Jack had done it, but plenty of proof that he had. Jack was in severe trouble, Polly was back, Pan had its goat, and Wallace was playing.

All was, for the moment, right with the world.

X X X X X

The next night, it was time for my dinner with Lynn Echolls. I scoured through my closet to find something good enough and finally settled on an old but serviceable red dress. A bit short, but I hardly thought Lynn was going to be giving me fashion critiques.

Logan came in, took one look at me, and said, "Wow, Mars . . ."

"Oh, come on," I said as he stepped forward and closed the door. "It's not that great."

"Not that great? If you knew what I was thinking right now –"

"We have a few minutes," I said. "Show me."

He did.

By the time we were done, I had to wash my face, brush my hair, reapply the makeup, and thoroughly scrub the cutting board. Don't ask.

No, still not sex. But we were getting closer. And I wasn't entirely sure how I felt about that.

Well, part of me was VERY sure how I felt about that. The part that was yelling "Yes, yes, yes!" from somewhere other than the part of my brain used for rational thought. But then there was the part still sorting out what had happened at Shelly Pomroy's party.

You don't get over things like that in a year. You don't get over things like that in a lifetime. You live with them, you fight against them, you stop thinking about them. But you don't get over them. For better or worse, they're always part of your life.

I think I needed to tell Logan about that night. Before things went any further.

But not yet.

We showed up at the Echolls estate in plenty of time – didn't have to fight our way through a mob of reporters – and Lynn was there at the door. She hugged me and said, "Good to see you, Veronica." She was dressed in a white sleeveless blouse and looked –

Well, she looked terrific. She looked ten years younger, a lot more relaxed, and in much better shape. And she didn't seem afraid of whatever might be lurking around the next corner.

"Good to see you too, Lynn. You look wonderful."

She smiled widely. "Thanks, Veronica. So do you. That's a terrific dress," she said. Then, leaning closer, she murmured, "Bet Logan had a hard time keeping his hands off you when he picked you up."

I blushed. "Mother," Logan said with both affection and exasperation, "What have I told you about embarrassing our guests?"

"I'm not embarrassing her, Logan," she said, "I'm complimenting her. She deserves it, and a lot more, for what she did for our family" Then she said, "I'm having a cook make us something in the backyard. Come on back."

I stopped at the back door. The poolhouse was completely gone, all the way down to the foundation. "Oh, you noticed that," she said. "Yeah, what happened with Logan clinched it. I didn't want that reminder –" she said the word reminder like it was a cuss word " – around for one second longer."

"Good." I said. I couldn't blame her in the least.

After a second Lynn clapped her hands and said, "I'm sorry," she said. "This is a happy occasion! I'm celebrating my son and his new girlfriend, and I couldn't be more thrilled for the two of you." She was effusive, but she sounded like she meant it. "So, what do you want?" She pointed to the man behind the outdoor grill, which looked like it could have cooked enough meat to feed Cleveland for a week. "We have steak, chicken, salmon, shrimp – oh, Logan, you're not allergic to the smell of shrimp, are you?"

Logan said, "No, I just can't eat it." He looked at me. "I'm allergic to all shellfish."

"And vegetables, if you're feeling vegetarian. Antonio!" she yelled to the chef. "I'll take some salmon. Logan?"

Logan took steak. I had some salmon and some chicken. The dinner, which also included a salad and some herbed potatoes, was too delicious for words.

The conversation was, on balance, light and breezy. She asked how things were going at school, expressed her sympathies once again about Dick having attacked me – "If you ever decide you want him killed or anything, let me know –" and laughed appreciatively when I was done telling her about how I found Polly.

I in turn asked her about the possible rebirth of her acting career.

"Oh, there's nothing possible about it," she said. Logan looked at her. This was news to him, too. "I didn't want to say anything until I was sure – but I got a guest appearance on a show coming up this summer called The Closer." Lynn smiled. "Just getting my feet wet, proving I can still do it."

"It's taken you a while to get back on the horse," Logan said. "But good ridin', Annie Oakley." I congratulated her too.

Lynn looked over at Antonio and told him to take a break. Once he was gone, she said, "And now, we need to talk about the two of you."

"Ah. I was wondering when the interrogation portion of the evening would begin."

"Interrogation?" Lynn seemed confused, then laughed. "Right. Logan told me about your father. I'm not a former sheriff. I already like you and I like the effect you have on Logan. Relax. I'm not going to make threats about how you need to keep your hands off my baby. Besides, I'm sure I'm much too late there." She grinned wickedly. Logan actually blushed a bit, but I'm sure mine was a much deeper red.

"No," Lynn continued. "I just want to be sure that both of you are happy, and Veronica, that you know that I will always be here for you. I know how hard it's been for you for the last year and a half or so since Lilly was killed. I also know," she glared at Logan, "That my son had something to do with that."

Logan held up his hands. "I think Veronica and my recent behavior indicates that all is forgiven." I grabbed his hand and squeezed it to show that it was. Not forgotten, maybe. But forgiven.

"Anyway," she said. "Veronica. You will ALWAYS be able to find help here."

"Thank you," I said simply. "That means a lot." And it did.

"I just wish you could do something about my husband," she said.

"He's already dead, mother dear," Logan said. "Do you want me to dig him up so you can kick his corpse a few times? I know I plan on dancing on his grave at some point."

"Sorry," Lynn said. "I meant, I wish you could prove he killed Lilly Kane instead of that man Koontz. Because he did, you know. I'm sure of it."


	30. Chapter 30

Hey there. Thanks for your patience with the delayed chapters, and I hope you enjoyed them. Now solidly in the gap between "Betty and Veronica" and "Kanes and Abels," and we may be here awhile.

Disclaimer: Rob Thomas owns _Veronica Mars_. I do not own _Veronica Mars_. I do shop at a grocery store called Mars; does that count?

X X X X X

I couldn't even look at Logan to judge his reaction. "What makes you think that, Lynn?"

"Oh, I don't have any evidence evidence, if you know what I mean," she said. "But it makes sense. Aaron would apparently sleep with anything that moved. And Lilly -- well --"

"She moved," Logan said.

"Given what I know about him now I can't see how he could have resisted the opportunity."

"Neither would Lilly," I said. That earned me a look from Logan. We were going to have to be very careful here, both of us.

"Exactly. And the recording sessions in the poolhouse, and all of that -- and how that Vanessa Mencken tried to blackmail you -- well, I didn't know Lilly that well but it seemed like she would have come up with the same idea. And Aaron would have been furious." She looked at Logan. "I know what he did to you, honey. I was too weak to do anything about it, but I know. And Aaron's reputation was everything to him. He could have killed her." She stopped. "He did kill her. I'm sure of it." She looked at Logan. "Oh, honey, I wish you hadn't burned those tapes. We might have been able to check."

I made a mental note: Lynn Echolls had a lot on the ball. With just an instinctive knowledge of the characters of the people involved, she'd jumped to a conclusion that had evaded me for months and the Neptune Sheriff's department forever.

"Would you ask him that, Veronica?"

She must have kept talking while I was thinking. "I'm sorry," I said. "Ask who what?"

"Your father. If he'd try to show that that Koontz guy didn't commit the murder."

This one I was sure I could answer. "Dad and I are already sure of that," I said. "We -- I mean he -- has his reasons, but he can't get the police to look at them with Abel Koontz already on death row."

Lynn smiled. "Excellent! So does he have a client or is he doing this on his own?"

I shook my head. "No client. Everyone else -- except for you and me -- seems to be satisfied with Abel Koontz."

She looked at Logan. "You're not acting surprised."

"It makes sense," he said, shrugging. "Daddy Dearest had a nasty temper and Lilly loved men and not consequences. If they ever got together . . ." and she could tell from the way he said that word if that it was one of the hardest words he's ever had to say. "Well," he said, "it would have been inevitable."

Lynn turned back to look at me. "He does now."

"Does what?"

"Has a client." She reached into the small purse she had with her and pulled out an already signed check. Five thousand dollars. "This is just for looking into it, for the work the two of you have already done. If he proves that the Koontz man didn't do it, there's ten thousand more. And then if he can prove that my husband did it . . . how does another fifty thousand sound?"

"Sounds good," I said. "Of course, I can't make promises for my father. And he kind likes to do things his own way."

"All I'm going to want is an update here or there," she said. "I'm not a detective. I've never even played one on TV. I say, let the experts do what they're paid to do. Speaking of which," she smiled and clapped her hands again. "Antonio!"

The cook came out of the house. "Yes, Mrs. Echolls."

"Time for dessert!" she said. "So I hope you like raspberry torte . . ."

X X X X X

"Well," I said to Logan when we got back to the XTerra. "That was . . . unusual."

"Another twist and turn on the high mountain road that seems to be our lives right now."

"We can't tell her --"

"Of course we can't," Logan snapped. "I'm not dumb, Mars."

"I never thought you were," I said carefully. "I'm just trying to figure out how to handle this."

"What's to handle? Give Keith the check, tell him why, and let him make the decision. Mother dear had no idea she was making things more complicated; let's let them be as uncomplicated as possible. I don't think we could have dealt with that any other way. She's not stupid either; if I'd jumped up and down protesting that Aaron Echolls would have never done that she wouldn't have believed me." He laughed a bit bitterly. "I'm not sure how to take this 'new mom' any more. I love that she's strong again, and independent, but she's a whole lot less easy to predict."

We drove most of the rest of the way home in a somewhat glum silence. Logan's kiss goodbye was a quick peck. "Sorry about that," he muttered. "But the mood I'm in right now is not conducive to sweetness and fluff."

"I understand." I wasn't exactly up for it either.

"And now, Mars," he said with a mock flourish, "I plan on going home and getting very, very drunk. Try not to call me until I've recovered. I know how much of a jackass I can be while I'm drunk and I'd rather not us see each other when I'm in that condition."

"Don't sell yourself short, Logan; you can be just as big a jackass when you're sober."

That got at least a faint grin, which was all I was going for. "True. Now go in there and sell sell sell your father on the joys of taking my mother's money. See you later."

When I went inside, Dad was making himself a sandwich. "So how'd it go, Veronica?" he asked. "Mrs. Echolls give you a good working over?"

"Damn. And she said the marks wouldn't show." I mustered up a small smile. "No, it was fine. She likes me and almost everything was a lot of fun."

"Good." he finished the sandwich and sat down on the couch.

I pulled the check out of my purse. "And then there's this," I said, handing it to him.

He looked at it and said, "Veronica, why is Lynn Echolls giving me money?"

I sighed and sat down. "It's going to take a bit of explanation -- and I didn't even bring up the topic, I swear." I explained Lynn's theories on what had happened, and what she wanted Dad to do.

"You realize that would be almost impossible to prove," Dad said.

"I do. I think she'll be happy even if all you do is prove Abel Koontz didn't do it -- maybe because then she can spread the story that her husband did."

"What do you think of her idea?"

"I think it makes a lot of sense," I said honestly. "I mean, she doesn't have proof, but it's entirely possible." Possible, hell. It had happened exactly that way. But I couldn't tell Dad that.

"I'll call her tomorrow and talk to her about it before I do anything with this," he said, raising the hand that held Lynn's check. "But unless she seems to be completely off her rocker I'm not going to turn down this much money for doing something I was going to do anyway."

"If she's crazy, she's a better actress than Aaron ever was."

"Not really that hard a job, sweetie, but I get your point."

X X X X X

That night I looked through Cassidy Casablancas' file. High grades in everything but PE, but a long list of disciplinary issues. Most of them were related to Dick, of course, but there were too many of them for me to entirely believe his story that he'd always been an unwilling participant. Maybe he wasn't much on physical confrontation, but still.

I didn't know exactly why I was spending so long scratching this particular itch. Something about the way he tried to casually split me and Logan up had something to do with it -- which was seemingly out of character, for him. And that wouldn't have been Dick's style. Little Dick's idea of subtle was sneaking off campus to beat me up. Which meant Cassidy had come up with this on his own.

Logan had made jokes about Cassidy Casablancas not being Lex Luthor or Professor Moriarty. I still didn't think he was. But I suspected that he could be a lot more dangerous than his brother, if he ever set his mind to it.

I certainly wouldn't trust a word he said to me ever again.

I put it aside and went to bed. I had something else in mind for tomorrow. Logan would be recovering from his hangover and Dad would be talking to Lynn Echolls.

I'd still been getting occasional phone calls and hangups ever since Valentine's Day. It was time to track this person down. The number was still the same; I had it burned in my head. The number wasn't listed anywhere I could check, but the area code and exchange pegged it as being somewhere around Barstow. And I still wasn't get anyone to pick up when I tried calling back.

I told Dad on my way out to give me a call if he had any questions about his meeting with Lynn and said I was just going to take it easy today. Which, comparatively speaking, I was.

I stopped off at the Mars Investigations office and ran the number through some of the specialized PI software. No luck. Which meant it wasn't an unlisted number, it was either a cell or a pay phone.

Since my computer skills had just reached their limits, I decided to call someone who knew more.

The voice on the other end grunted more than spoke English. "Mac?" I said.

"Veronica," she said sleepily. "Hey."

"Sounds like I woke you up."

A loud yawn directly into the receiver then, "Why would you think that?" I apologized and she said, "Don't bother. I was up late watching a DVD. You couldn't have known." After another yawn, this one not right into my ear, she said, "So what do you want?"

"What makes you think I want anything?" I asked innocently.

"Am I not the Willow to your Buffy?" she said. "Well, early Willow. Before she got witchy. Or lesbian." After a second, "So what kind of demon do you need me to research?"

I laughed. "The demon of unknown phone numbers," I said. "I've done everything I can do --" I gave her the thirty-second summary what -- "And I was hoping you could do more."

"Of course, of course," she said. "But couldn't you have figured it out?"

"Eventually," I said. "But you can get it so much faster."

"Where are you right now?"

"My Dad's office. Why?"

"If you don't mind, I'd like to come by and do it there."

"Okay . . ."

"See you in half an hour." And she hung up.

So I sat in the reception area for a bit, paging through magazines. The _Entertainment Weekly_ had a report on the Vanessa Mencken episode of Tinseltown Diaries. "And where there's one tape, there could be more," it read. "But Lynn Echolls, at the moment, isn't talking."

That reminded me: Those tapes I'd saved could likely do nothing but hurt Logan and Lynn now. I'd have to call Cliff and find a way of getting rid of them.

The only tapes we really needed were those of Aaron and Lilly. And I had them so well hidden I doubted even Clarence Weidman could find them without six hours lead time and a lot of help.

I also had the photos of the poolhouse and the camera system if I needed them. Vanessa had never asked for them, and I certainly wasn't going to volunteer.

Mac showed up within 25 minutes. "Sorry about that," she said. "But there's a big car show in San Diego Dad's been talking up and I wanted to be out of the house in case he suddenly decided on a spur of the moment 'family fun' road trip. So," she said, "Let me at that computer." Within ten minutes she had the number -- it was a pay phone from a place called the Sage Brush Cantina. She also had an illegal copy of at least two of Dad's PI programs. What the hell. She was doing this, so far, for free.

I had no idea why someone from there would be harassing me, but I was about to find out. "Hey, Mac," I said. "Want to guarantee you won't go to that car show? Come with." I don't know why I asked her to go. Guilt that the only reason I talked to her was to ask for something, whatever. But a nearly three-hour ride would be a lot better with someone to talk to.

"So, let's see. A day looking at vintage Packards, or a day spent with you looking for a crank caller at a dive in Barstow?" I nodded. "I'm in. Of course, I'll have to look at the inevitable slideshow later when Dad compares the grille of a '61 Edsel with a '63 model, but that's so much better than actually being there."

Cool. Had a plan, had a destination, had a friend to share the ride.

Next stop: The Sage Brush Cantina.


	31. Chapter 31

Yup. It's time for Lianne Mars to re-enter the picture. And some Buffy conversation. What can I say? I loved that show.

Disclaimer: I do not own Veronica Mars. Someone much luckier and more talented does.

X X X X X

Mac insisted on taking her Beetle. "No offense," she said. "But that model Le Baron tends to crap out after 100,000 miles or so, I have no idea how you've kept it going this long . . ."

"Are you sure you wouldn't rather be at the car show?" I asked.

Sheepishly, she laughed. "Sheer osmosis, I swear."

"Uh-huh." I didn't press the point. Mac swore she had nothing in common with her parents, and genetically she was a Sinclair anyway, but you can't help picking things up from the people who raise you, no matter where your genes come from. (That was the main reason I'd tossed out that DNA report on whether Keith Mars was her biological father. It didn't matter. Dad was Dad. Jake Kane was a rich asshole who might have been sleeping with Mom.)

So we dropped the Le Baron off at home, and while Mac called her parents I told Dad I was making a one-day road trip with Mac. "Just driving around," I said. "It's been stressful around here recently."

I chose the right moment: Right as he was walking out the door to meet up with Lynn Echolls. "Enjoy yourself. Try not to get arrested."

"You ruin all my fun."

"That's what Daddies do, sweetheart." He kissed my forehead and left.

After stopping off at a local natural food store for provisions -- Mac wasn't going to trust that she could find a vegan meal in Barstow or anywhere along the way -- we were off.

The conversation was all over the map. We talked about my latest cases, her family, Arriana Whitlock and SAAC -- "Their goals are noble. Their methods are stupid. I mean, last year they threw blood on the homecoming queen because she was wearing fur."

"Have we learned nothing from _Carrie_?" I asked.

"Apparently not," Mac said. I'm a vegan. But I'm not a converting vegan. If people ask, I'll tell them. If they don't, I don't. If they give me a hard time, I cancel their credit cards." She paused. "Speaking of: Want me to do anything to the Casablancas brothers?"

"Naah," I said. "Got that covered. But thanks."

"Sad thing was, I always thought Cassidy was kind of um, you know, cute."

Cassidy Casablancas was cute like a rabid chipmunk was cute. "Well, in case you're ever tempted otherwise --" and I explained, leaving out the specifics, how Cassidy had tried to manipulate me. "He's as bad as his brother. He's just not as in-your-face about it."

She said, "Thanks for the warning."

"No problem. Consider him the . . . Malcolm, to your Willow."

She got it immediately. "I didn't realize you were that big a Buffy fan, Veronica."

"Well, I was 9 when it started, but I caught up. And, really, not exactly the kind of thing I publicized. Geek Chic is so not in fashion among the '09er crowd."

"Ah. Like, Cordelia didn't broadcast that she was dating Xander."

"Yep," I said. "Duncan understood, but --

"Duncan?" she asked. "Duncan Kane? Watched Buffy?"

"Yeah -- and Smallville." I shrugged. "What can I say? He always had a thing for short blonde women."

"Meg's not that short . . ."

"But she is blonde," I said.

"So, if I'm your Willow . . ."

"Let's see. Dad is Giles, of course. Wallace is Xander. Weevil is Spike, but later Spike -- and without that whole sexual thing." Weevil was hot, no arguing the point, but a bit too genuine bad-boy to be my type. "Logan is Logan." She gave me a look. "You thought I was going to say Angel? My entire life is _not_ patterned after Buffy, thank you very much."

"That's good, because I'm hoping you don't have a Faith out there."

And we talked about things Buffy-related for quite a while after that. No, I'm not as big a geek as Mac is -- she even wrote some Buffy fanfiction, mostly Willow/Oz related stuff that she was horribly embarrassed about and absolutely would not give me the website for -- but it's nice to be able to share these things with people that don't look at you like you've suddenly grown an extra head.

It was a nice drive, overall. More relaxation -- and I needed it. As we hit the Barstow city limits, Dad called and told me he'd accepted the commission from Lynn Echolls. I was thrilled. Even if Dad never proves Aaron killed Lilly, we could use the $15,000 -- because he _will_ prove that Abel Koontz didn't do it.

"That's something else that popped up today," he said. "I found out that Abel Koontz has a daughter. I'm going out to try to track her down, so don't wait up. Just be sure you get home in time to walk Backup."

I said I would -- and I had to; Backup was a good dog but cleaning up mounds of dog poop from the living room floor? Not my idea of a fun way to spend an evening. So that gave me a couple of hours in Barstow to track down my mystery caller. If things went my way, they'd already be at the Sage Brush Cantina; but it was just short of 1 in the afternoon. Only the most dedicated drunks hang around bars that early in the day.

And, let's face it, Veronica: When do things ever go your way?

We pulled into the Sage Brush Cantina parking lot. Mac's description of it as a "dive" seemed wildly understated. There were only a few cars in the parking lot, and not much around it. From the outside, it looked like the kind of place Hell's Angels would steer clear of.

Mac trailed me nervously into the bar. As she never failed to remind me, she wasn't exactly a fieldwork type of gal. But she did come. I gave her high marks for guts and made a mental note to spend more time with her when it had absolutely nothing to do with any kind of work I was doing.

The door opened to a large and mostly empty room. There were a couple of people playing pool; they gave me and Mac a look as we passed that made me feel like we'd just wandered into a cat show in mouse costumes. They didn't seem familiar, and neither did anyone else.

Just to check, I made a beeline for the payphone and checked the number. Yep. It matched, all right.

I walked up to the bar. The bartender was scrubbing out a glass that didn't look it had been really clean since the Reagan administration. He took one look at me and said, "You're too young to be in here."

"I don't want to drink anything --" I'd probably die of typhoid if I did -- "I just want some information."

"Okay. Lisbon is the capital of Portugal." Terrific. I'd just been handed a bartender who thought he was the second coming of Bob Hope. I just glared at him. "Who's that?" she said, pointing at Mac.

"Angelina Jolie," Mac said. I"'m in disguise."

"Hell of a disguise."

"All I want to do is ask you a question," I said. "Has there been someone who's been coming in here who keeps making calls from that phone -- it would have started a bit before Valentine's Day."

The man grunted. "Yeah. Blonde lady."

A blonde woman? My god . . . "Do you know the blonde lady's name?"

"No." Cheers, this wasn't. "But she's usually in here by now most days."

"Do you have any idea where she lives? Or where she's staying?"

"No. Yo, Jay!" Jay -- one of the two pool players -- "Blonde woman. Didn't you have to take her home last night?"

"Yeah." Jay looked at me as if trying to judge whether I'd get out of here faster if he told me or if he didn't. "The Condor. First floor room."

"The Condor."

"Motel in town," bartender said. "Up that way --" he pointed generally northward --" about a mile or so." He went back to the futile task of wiping out the permanently dirty glass.

That was the best I was going to get from this place. Mac and I turned to go.

"Angelina Jolie?" I said to Mac as I left. "We'll make a badass out of you yet."

"That's as badass as I want to get, thanks." After a second, "So, who do you think the blonde woman is?"

"I think it could be my mother."

Mac looked at me. "Your mother?"

"Let's find out before I get my hopes up."

The drive to the Condor took only a couple of minutes. It made the Camelot look like the Neptune Grand. I was not in the least surprised to find that it rented out rooms by the hour as well as by the day. "Are you --" I said to the clerk, "Do you have a Lianne Mars staying here?"

He looked down and checked the register. "Room 117."

"Thanks."

Mac and I went down to room 117. "She's here," I said. "That's her car right there." My god, my mom was right inside this room . . . I began pounding on the door. "Mom!" I said. "Mom! Mom!"

There was no answer from inside the room. Well, I wasn't going to let a little thing like a lock stop me now. The Condor had old locks -- so old I could easily pick them with a credit card, and did.

Mac hung back as I went inside. Mom was there, asleep on the bed. There was an empty vodka bottle next to her. I went over and said, "Mom!" in her ear.

Still no answer.

Almost in a panic now, I leaned in close.

When I heard a breath I almost collapsed in relief. "Mom!" I said, grabbing her arm.

It was clammy and colder than it should have been. And her breathing was shallow and not at all regular. I'd spent enough time in the Sheriff's office looking at "The Dangers of Drinking" pamphlets to recognize alcohol poisoning when I saw it.

"Mac!" I yelled. "Call 911!"

Oh, Mom . . .


	32. Chapter 32

So: Still pre Kanes and Abels. No ending cliffhanger this time, but Veronica deserves SOME time off, don't you think?

Disclaimer: Rob Thomas owns Veronica Mars. I'm just renting it out for a few days.

X X X X X

Things were kind of a blur for the next couple of hours.

I remember the paramedics coming; I remember them checking Mom over and carrying her into the back of an ambulance, then mentioning the name of the hospital they were going to, which I don't remember; I remember being bundled into Mac's Beetle; I remember telling Mac Dad and Logan's cell phone numbers; I remember filling out forms – when I had trouble writing my own name, Mac took over and gently guided me through the rest it.

ThankgoodnessMac was there. In all the scenarios I'd ever had in my head for my reunion with Mom, finding her lying unconscious on a bed possibly dying of alcohol poisoning wasn't anywhere on the list.

The doctor came out – I forgot her name five seconds after she said it – and said, "Miss Mars?" At prompting from Mac, I acknowledged that I was, indeed, Miss Mars – "It's good you found her when you did. Your instincts were good; she's indeed suffering from acute alcohol poisoning. "

"Is she going to be okay?" Mac asked.

"It's too soon to tell," the doctor said. "But we're going to do our best to make sure she is."

"Thanks," I said. I think it was the first time I'd talked since I told Mac to call 911 back in Mom's hotel room.

Mac and I went back to sit down in the hospital waiting room.

Dad came running in later. I have no idea how much later. "Veronica!" he said.

"Daddy!" I shouted as he ran up and hugged me. And that's, finally, when I started crying. He didn't let me go until I was done.

That's what Dads do.

When I was done, Dad turned to look at Mac and said, "Thank you . . ."

"Mac," she said. "Um, Cindy MacKenzie. But everybody calls me Mac."

"Veronica's told me a lot about you," he said. "Thanks for helping her."

She shrugged. "Friends do that." Then she stood up. "If you'll excuse me, I'm going to go . . . get something to eat. I'll be back, Veronica, don't worry."

I appreciated Mac's concern, but I think my long cry while Dad held me shook me out of my numbness. Still, I owed her big. This wasn't the kind of thing you could repay with money or favors.

Dad went over and talked to the on-duty nurse for a second, then came back and sat down next to me. "Wallace is going to take care of Backup," he said.

"That's good."

"Now, Veronica –" he said.

"I had no idea I was going to find Mom today," I said. "I swear."

"I know you've been looking for her," Dad said.

I couldn't argue with that. "Yeah. But today – I'd been getting crank calls from a pay phone up here since Valentine's Day. Someone would call and hang up, call and hang up. I was just trying to figure out who it was."

"And what if they'd been –" he stopped himself. "No. This isn't the time. Not now." I knew what he'd been about to ask: What if they'd been dangerous? And it wasn't a question where he'd accept the answer of, "but she wasn't."

"It's my fault, Dad. Mom being here is my fault."

Puzzled, he said, "You can't believe that."

"Of course I can," I said. "If I'd tried to track her down sooner. If I'd tried to call her back every time. Maybe she would have had answered." Even though she never did. "Maybe someone else would have. But she wouldn't be in the hospital –"

"It's not your fault, sweetie," Dad said, hugging me again. "Your mother chose –"

"Miss Mars?" The doctor said. Just in time. The next word's out of Dad's mouth would either have been "to leave" or "to drink," and neither one would leave me in a happy place right now.

Dad was right. Blaming myself for this was counterproductive and stupid. But blaming Mom wasn't right, either. No, no one forced her to drink. But it hadn't been her choice to leave.

It was Clarence Weidman's.

I got up; Dad followed me over and shook the doctor's hand. "I'm Keith Mars," he said.

"Dr. Mahmoud," she said.

"What's my wife's condition?"

"I'm sorry to have to tell you this," she said. "But while your daughter got there in time to save her life . . . her brain hasn't been receiving enough oxygen for too long."

"You're saying she's brain damaged," I said.

"Almost certainly." Dr. Mahmoud said. "We can't be certain as to the extent. It could range from mild neurocognitive deficits to irreversible coma. We won't be certain of that until we run some more tests."

"Run them," Dad said.

"Of course, Mr. Mars, I just need you to sign some papers . . ."

They walked over towards the nurse's station where they began a discussion. They'd gotten as far as, "Now that I think about it, maybe we should wait –" when Logan entered the room and came over to me. Taking my hands in his, he leaned forward, gave me a quick kiss, and said, "What happened?"

I told him the whole story. "And now," I said when I was done, "You understand why I'm going to kill Clarence Weidman."

He held onto my hands. "Veronica," he said quietly, "You can't."

"I don't mean literally. Although I'd like to. No, I mean –"

"You mean nothing," Logan said. "Believe me. There is nothing more I'd like to do right now –" and just for a moment his calm slipped – "than go tearing back to Neptune with you and toss him bound, gagged and tied to cement blocks into the Pacific Ocean. But we can't. The consequences –"

"I know. You could end up in jail. Or death row."

He shook his head. "No. If all this were about was me, I'd have been out of here with you five minutes ago. But it's not. It's about you also. And I'm willing to get myself hurt. I am not willing to get you hurt. I love you too much for that.

Deflated and calmer because, dammit, he was right, I went back over and sat down. He came over and set next to me, his hand never leaving mine. "Since when did you become the cool-headed rational one and I become the psychotic jackass?"

He quirked a smile at that one. "Careful, Mars," he said. "I may have to sue you for trademark infringement." Then he got serious. "Since you found your mother in an alcohol-induced coma. I think that would have set Gandhi off."

"I still want to kill him, though."

"Kill who?" Mac asked as she sat down a couple of seats away.

"Um . . ." I was drawing a blank again. I hate it when I do that.

Logan supplied the save. "That bartender," he said. "The one who let Veronica's mom keep drinking."

"Oh, that," she said. "You don't need to worry about that."

"Why?"

"Well, within the next couple of weeks, the Sage Brush Cantina is going to be getting visits from the fire inspector, the health inspector, and the liquor board." At my look of disbelief, she held up her laptop. "What? Did you think I was spending all this time getting food? I may not be Lara Croft like you, Veronica, but it doesn't take me fifteen minutes to get an energy bar and spring water from a car two hundred feet away." She looked at my expression and said, "You're going to come over and hug me now, aren't you?"

"Yup." And I did. "Mac -- I owe you –"

"You owe me nothing, Veronica," she said. "It's like I told your father. Friends do that."

X X X X X

We didn't leave the hospital until later that night. Mac, Dad and Logan were all still there. Mac had called her parents and explained what had happened, and they told her to stay as late as she felt she needed to. More proof that parenting is more than genetics. They knew she cared, therefore they cared.

Dad had made arrangements to have Mom transferred back to Neptune for the brain scans she needed and there was no point in us staying at the hospital all night. It was obvious there wouldn't be a change in her condition for quite a long time. (If ever.)

So that left me a choice of who to ride back with: Logan or Dad? (Mac had driven me up and since then she'd gone so far above and beyond I wasn't going to do anything to put herself out any more.)

She smiled, understood, and drove away.

Logan made the decision for me. "This is family time," he said. "I'm not family." Then he drove off, too.

Dad and I mostly drove home in silence. But it wasn't the silence of two people who didn't want to talk; it was the silence of two people who didn't need to.

I apologized for interrupting his search for Abel Koontz's daughter. "It's okay, sweetie," he said. "She was on a road trip this weekend anyway. I'll try her again on Monday. Besides, even if she'd been about to hand me exculpatory evidence on a silver platter, I would have come running. You know that."

"I do," I said. Dad was the one person in my life who had never let me down.

"This girl Mac seems like a really good person."

"She really is." I hadn't quite realized how good until today. Wallace kept making jokes about it, but a lot of it was true: I never let friendship get in the way of using people.

I was never going to be able to stop that unless I got out of the detective business altogether. But I needed to temper it – or at least make sure the people were my friends first and my devoted servants second.

We got home past midnight. Wallace was sacked out on the couch, with Backup lying at his feet looking content. Well, they'd bonded, at least. Dad told me to get to bed while he called Alicia Fennel.

He got no argument from me.

X X X X X

That night I dreamed of Lilly again. We were sitting at one of the Neptune High lunch tables.

"God, Veronica Mars," she said. "Like your life wasn't a soap opera already."

"I was actually going more for _Buffy the Vampire Slayer_, but I get your point."

"You're going to have to let go of something, you know?" She polished her nails. "So what do you think? Should I go for cherry red or deep crimson?"

"Let go of something?"

"You're going to go crazy if you don't. Your Mom and Logan and –" she shuddered. "Dick Casablancas and proving who murdered my fabulous self. And of course, whoever raped you. Not to mention that Weidman guy. He takes creepy to a level beyond creepy. I'm definitely going with the deep crimson."

"I can't, Lilly. I can't. Somebody has to do this."

She shrugged. "Your call, Veronica. But I'll always love you even if you don't prove Aaron killed me."

"And I'll love you too."

"Well, of course! Who wouldn't?"

X X X X X

The next morning, Dad absolutely would not let me go with him to the hospital. "Day off," he said firmly. "No going to the office. No helping a friend. I'll call you if anything happens with your mother. I promise."

So what to do?

There was a knock on the door.

I opened it and Logan was standing there.

Well, that's one question answered . . .


	33. Chapter 33

Veronica's day off doesn't go as smoothly as planned. Also, you will notice a reuse of what I consider the single best line of the first season.

Disclaimer: Rob Thomas and CW-that-will-be owns Veronica Mars. I own only the way I turn most of the phrases in the story.

X X X X X

"This is an extremely pleasant coincidence," I said, giving him a quick kiss.

"Pleasant? Yes." He kissed me back. "Coincidence? Not really. Your father called me and asked me to come over and keep you distracted." He kissed me again.

"Keith Mars invited you to come over, on a day when he wasn't going to be here, and told you to distract me?"

"Mmmm-hmmm."

"I have the best Dad ever."

We made out for a few more minutes, before Logan reluctantly broke it off and said, "There was a condition."

"And that was?"

"That we spend the day away from the apartment."

"I so do _not_ have the best Dad ever."

"So," I said when we got to the X-Terra, "What are we going to do?"

"Your father said to stay away from your apartment. He never said to stay away from my house . . ."

"And your mother?" I liked Lynn, but wouldn't feel comfortable doing much beyond polite conversation and quick pecks on the cheek if she were present.

"Mother dear is going to Los Angeles to do some shopping," Logan said.

"Ooooh," I said wickedly.

"Ooooh is right. So, do you want to go straight there or --"

My kiss gave him all the answer he needed.

X X X X X

An hour later, after having lots of fun exploring various portions of each other's anatomies -- no, still not sex, but may I say that Logan is ticklish in places you would never expect – we pulled clear and tried to figure out what else we were going to do that day.

After all, if we kept up that exploration, either Logan's or my self-control was going to shatter – and I wasn't taking bets that it would be Logan's that would shatter first.

So we talked.

As we lay there on his bed, fully clothed (dammit), I turned to Logan and said, "Don't think I didn't notice what you said yesterday."

"About trademark infringement? Relax. Hiram's never even handled a case like that. Besides, I'll just be an ass for a while at school tomorrow and I'll be secure in my 'psychotic jackass' status for quite a while."

"Not what I meant," I said. "Besides, I think Dick's already taken your throne from you there."

"No!"

"Yes!" We were both shaking with barely suppressed laughter.

"I'm going to have to fight for my title, you realize," he said. "So tell me: Should I beat up a few kids for their lunch money?"

"That screams 'school bully,' not' psychotic jackass.' Keep going."

"Order the meat-lovers pizza special for the next meeting of SAAC?"

"Practical jokes do not a psychotic jackass make."

"Question Weevil's manhood or lack thereof in front of the PCH'ers?"

"Hi! I'm Logan! Ask me about my death wish!"

He sighed. "Damn. Mars, you've ruined me. I used to be so good at this."

"Well," I murmured, "There are still plenty of other things you're good at."

"Oh, really?"

"Yeah. Like evading certain topics of conversation. I was saying I noticed what you'd said yesterday at the hospital. About you not willing to see me get hurt because you loved me too much."

"Oh. That." Logan said, sounding dangerously casual.

"Oh. That?"

"Yeah. Um . . ." He paused. "Veronica. Emotional conversations aren't my strong point. I said it, I meant it, do we have to make a big deal of it?"

"You actually love me?"

"Yup."

Wow. Here I'd been expecting him to do some cute frantic backpedaling, after which I would tease him mercilessly. Just when you think you know a person . . .

"I'm not looking for a quid pro quo, here," he said. "I've known about this for longer than you have, after all. I hardly expect you to have fallen so completely for my manly charms after only a few weeks that you'll tell me you love me too."

"Well, your manly charms are spellbinding . . ."

"Many have tried to resist, all have failed."

"Look. If organizing an armed invasion of your backyard doesn't tell you everything you need to know about what I feel about you, I don't know what does."

"So . . ."

"So I love you, too. Happy?"

He inched closer on the mattress and kissed me. When we finished, I was gasping for breath. "Ecstatic," he said. "But I meant what I said about the quid pro quo."

"If I felt," I said, "Like I was being pressured, I would have told you to go jump off the Coronado Bridge." I kissed him back and was pleased to notice that this time he was the one having a little difficulty breathing.

Things progressed from there until the point where I had to say, "That's enough."

Reluctantly, Logan said, "Fine," but we did stop.

After a few more minutes, Logan said, "Why?"

"Why, what?"

"Why do you do that? Once again – no pressure. I promise. I'll wait as long as you want me to. But still – I mean, I know it's not that you're waiting for marriage or anything –"

That had been the wrong thing to say. I stiffened and sat up.

"What did I say?" he asked.

"You said that like you know I've already had sex," I said. "Like those rumors –"

"I know those rumors aren't true. Hell, I started most of them. But – you and Duncan, I assumed—"

"Making assumptions about my sex life? Bad idea."

He sat up as well. "Veronica. Look. I didn't mean anything by it. I wasn't trying to hurt you. It was what I thought was an obvious assumption – but it was a really, really stupid one. I'm sorry." He paused. "If you tell me you've never had sex, I believe you." And he sounded absolutely sincere. I knew he hadn't been trying to hurt me, but that didn't mean it hurt any less.

Don't get me wrong. I don't care what most people think about me. If Dick Casablancas or Shelly Pomroy want to think I've slept with the entire offensive line of the football team, let them. Logan was different.

I care what he thinks.

"I have had sex," I said. "It wasn't voluntary on my part."

"Not voluntary?" he said. Then, coldly, "Somebody raped you?" I nodded my head. "Tell me who it is. I'm going to go kill them."

"If I knew, I would," I said. "And I'd do it myself. It was – it was at Shelly Pomroy's party. Someone drugged me, or something – I spent most of the night not really knowing what was going on. I woke up the next morning, alone, obviously having had sex – and to top it off someone had written "slut" on my car."

There was complete silence. "Logan?" I asked.

"I'm going to tell you something now, Veronica. And you're not going to like it."

"What?"

"I know there were drugs at that party – because I brought some of them."

"You what?" I demanded, standing up.

"Luke and Sean and I – we'd gone to Tijuana and picked up some Liquid X." At my look, he said, "I never used it. I swear to God. And if I had it was going to be 'hey, we're at a rave,' not 'hey, let's get some girl wasted so we can sleep with her.' I'm not wired that way. You know that."

Logan tried to go further but I held up my hand and said – "Stop. Just stop."

"I didn't do anything --"

Screaming, I said "Stop!"

He shut up.

I needed to think. I needed to process this.

I needed to scream and hit something. I pounded my fist on the bureau nearby. The mirror on the wall quivered, but that didn't make me feel any better.

Okay, Veronica. Calm down. Deep breaths. Logan told you. He _told_ you. He didn't need to tell you. He could have just let it slide, hoping that I wouldn't find out. But he didn't.

He says he loves me. I believe him.

Could he have dosed my drink to get his giggles back then? Yes.

Would he?

Tougher question. At the time, I was the most hated person at Neptune High, and he was the one doing a lot of the hating. He destroyed my car with a crowbar. He insulted me repeatedly.

I can't imagine him setting me up to be assaulted. Not given his father.

I . . . believe him.

But it doesn't make it any easier, knowing that he might have anything to do with my rape, however inadvertently, however it came about.

I turned around. The look in his eyes was as close to fearful as I've ever seen him.

"I believe you," I said. As a look of relief crossed his face, I added, "But you still brought the Liquid X."

"I know," he said. "Luke and Sean used it. I didn't." He stopped. "Do you want to know who?"

Sitting down next to him on the bed, I said, "I'm not sure. I mean, I've come to terms with the idea that it was one mystery I was never going to solve. I don't want to get my hopes up. Besides, there were about a hundred people at that party. 98 of them would step over my corpse for free gum."

"Would have stepped. You still might not be the most beloved figure at Neptune High, but your daring raid had its perks. Dick came off looking like the bad guy. You came out looking like the hero. And then when he attacked you?" He grabbed my hands. "People will talk to us. To me, and you."

"Not Dick. Not Cassidy. And certainly not Madison." I think I'd have a better chance of talking to Osama bin Laden than Madison. And a lot more fun.

"That leaves 95 other people. I'm betting we could get the truth from them. Start with Meg, and Duncan, and Casey Gant; the people who're most likely to talk to you. I'll track down Sean and Luke." He looked directly into my eyes. "What do you say?"

I could remember Lilly in my dream saying that I couldn't carry of all these burdens with me forever.

This was the chance to relieve myself of one of them.

"Let's do it," I said.


	34. Chapter 34

Veronica's weekend of alternating fun and non-fun continues. And then, the investigation begins.

Disclaimer: Rob Thomas owns Veronica Mars. But just wait until I invent time travel . . .

X X X X X

So then we got down to actual relaxation. Not being in the mood at the time for hanky or panky, I actually let Logan drag me into playing video games for a while, but after his warrior kicked my warrior's ass for the tenth time in eleven tries I demanded we do something else.

"How about lunch?" I asked.

"My culinary skills are limited to sandwiches and knowing which pizza joint delivers the fastest."

"No, I was thinking we'd go out for a bit."

I called Wallace and Mac; they were game and we all headed to a Chinese place (with an excellent vegan selection for Mac.)

"We don't tell them anything," I said as we got out of the X-Terra to walk inside.

"I don't kiss and tell, Mars."

"I mean it," I said. "Right now you're one of only three people who knows about this."

He stopped. "Who's the third?"

"Don Lamb. He ridiculed me and threw me out of his office."

"Terrific. That's the third person on the list of people I have to kill for hurting you."

"Well," I said, "Make sure not to leave any physical evidence."

"I do watch _CSI_."

We went inside; Wallace and Mac were already waiting and having a quiet and fairly intense conversation. "Hey, Veronica," Mac said. "I gave him the full story of yesterday. Didn't know if you were up for it."

I smiled. "Have I told you lately what a tremendously cool person you are?"

"No. But thanks."

Wallace did ask me how Mom was doing today -- I was operating on the "no news is good news" principle -- and then we got down to the trivial. Wallace was still riding his Friday night high in the basketball game, in which he'd been the major reason Neptune beat Pan High. "I mean," he said, "I must've gotten at least ten girls begging me to take them out afterwards."

"Cheerleader smorgasbord," Logan said. "I remember the days . . " he noticed my glare. "I said I remembered them, not that I wanted to relive them."

I laughed. "I'm fully aware of your sordid past."

"You say sordid, I say 'enormously entertaining.'"

Mac and Logan then got into a heated discussion on the merits of various video games, ending up in an honest-to-god challenge. "Me and you, Echolls," she said eventually. "Combat, platformer, 1st-person shooter -- I'll take you on in Pac-Man and kick your ass," she said.

Logan surprised Mac when he said, "You're on. _Wolfenstein 3-D_. Not _Return to Wolfenstein_. The original 1st-person shooter."

"_Wolfenstein 3-D_? Were we even BORN when that came out?" Mac demanded. "And anyway, the real first shooter like that was _Catacomb Abyss_."

"If you're too afraid . . ."

"I'll have Grosse saying "Mutti" while you're still floundering around on the seventh level."

"High score or speed?"

Mac said, "Speed, of course."

Logan shook her hand. "You're so on, MacKenzie."

Wallace and I watched this entire exchange with growing bemusement. "You have any idea what they're talking about?" Wallace asked.

"Not a clue."

And so Wallace and I got to spend most of the rest of the afternoon watching Logan and Mac play a computer game that came out when we were all barely out of diapers. They tried to explain it -- "You're a kickass US soldier who got captured by the Nazis and have to fight your way up through their most dangerous prison --" but when Wallace sensibly asked, "So if you're so kickass, how'd they catch you in the first place?" he was met by twin glares from Logan and Mac.

There were six episodes. Mac beat Logan 4-2. Wallace and I spent the afternoon MST3K'ing them and basically asking a lot of really annoying questions. Every time they glared at one of us, we scored a point. I beat Wallace, 40 glares to 36.

Logan bowed deeply to Mac and said, "You are truly the master."

"And don't forget it, bub."

X X X X X

Logan drove me home, gave me a quick kiss, and said, "Remember. Start with Duncan and Meg and Casey. I've got Sean and Luke. We'll meet at lunch to talk further."

"Wait a minute, which one of us is the detective here?"

Another kiss and I went in to talk to Dad.

He looked up at me from the couch.

From the look on his face I didn't need to ask him how things had gone. He'd clearly been crying, although he wasn't, now. And Dad never cried.

"What is it?"

"They did the brainscan," he said. "The damage . . . the damage is pretty severe."

I sat down. "What does that --"

"Veronica," he said, "They say she's not going to wake up."

I grabbed, wildly, at something irrelevant -- "They never get tests done this fast --"

"Someone told Jake Kane about it and he came down to 'grease the wheels.' By the time I found out what he was doing it was too late. The security guards had to stop me from hitting him."

"Damn security guards." A minute later I finally said it. "She's not going to wake up." It wasn't a question.

"No, sweetie."

I was cried out from yesterday and emotionally drained from the morning and I just could not deal with this any longer. I hugged Dad -- more for his sake than mine -- and said, "I'm going to go in my room for a while."

"Okay. If you need me, honey –"

"I know where you'll be. And if you need me, same thing."

I think I just lay there for most of the rest of the day. Dad came in and half-heartedly offered me a tuna salad sandwich for dinner; I think I ate it.

At some point I fell asleep. If I dreamed at all, I don't remember that either.

Too bad. I think I could have used some Lilly wisdom right about then.

X X X X X

New day. New agenda.

The time for feeling sorry for myself is over. Mom . . . was likely gone forever. Unless I developed superpowers or someone invented time travel there was nothing I could do about it.

Dad was off tracking down Abel Koontz's daughter and I had someone to track down as well.

I drove myself to school because I wanted to get there early and catch whoever I could coming in.

Casey Gant got there first. "Casey!" I called.

He turned and looked at me. "Veronica."

"First off, I don't know if I ever thanked you for tipping Duncan off to what was happening with Logan."

He smiled faintly. "You're welcome, but I didn't do it for you. Despite that those people got my priorities back in order, I still hate the way they did it. Didn't want to see Logan going through the same thing."

"And an awkward question."

"Ask away."

"Do you remember Shelly Pomroy's end of the year party?" He nodded. "What do you remember about me there? Did things get ugly?"

"Yeah." And then he explained when he saw Dick rubbing up against me, pulling me down on top of him, and kissing me. Then when Dick saw Madison he shoved me towards Casey. Dear God, I kissed Dick? Excuse me while I go gargle with Mr. Clean. Casey went on, "You're not going to go off on Dick for this, are you?"

"I couldn't possibly hate him any more than I did right now."

"True. But I'm thinking . . . if you don't remember much about that party, maybe you should leave it that way."

"Can't do that."

"Some of the guys . . . Dick, Sean, Beaver . . . thought it would be cool to see you making out with Shelly. Dick was feeding you shots; I guess they thought you were sobering up."

"Is that all you remember?"

He nodded his head. "Yeah. Don't know why you're asking, but I hope it helped." He walked off

It did. I was clearly drugged, not drunk – what parts of the evening I do remember don't include much in the way of alcohol. But if Dick, or Beaver, or Sean, knew I was on Liquid X, they wouldn't have needed to keep feeding me shots.

Doesn't mean they didn't rape me. Does mean they didn't set me up for it.

As I stood there thinking, Duncan and Meg pulled up. I called out to them as they got out of Duncan's car.

They walked up. Meg said, "I heard about your mother, Veronica. I'm so sorry." And she hugged me.

Duncan said, "Yeah. That . . . that really, really sucks. I liked your Mom." Not exactly the most original or emotional of statements, but he meant it.

"Thanks. That means a lot." After a second, "And now for something completely different . . ." I asked them what they remembered about my behavior at Shelly's party.

Duncan said, "Nothing, really. I have to go meet someone," and walked off, leaving Meg and me staring after him.

"Okay . . ." I said. If Duncan Kane thought he was going to get away with that, he was sadly mistaken. "What's --?"

Meg seemed as confused as I was. "Maybe he had a lousy time and doesn't want to talk about it."

"Well, since you haven't walked off . . ."

"Why?"

"My memory's a little fuzzy about that night."

"Maybe that's a good thing." I simply stared at her. "I don't want to get you mad at Logan . . ."

"Logan and I have had this discussion."

Well, maybe not all of it. Meg explained that she'd seen Logan put salt on my chest and a lime in my mouth and that people were starting to do body shots.

"I wanted to help you," she said, "But Cole held me back and told me 'it wasn't my business.'" She sounded disgusted with herself. "But then someone ran to your rescue and carried you off."

"You don't know who helped me?" She shook her head. "Thanks."

She looked at me and said, "If that's your big high-school related embarrassment, everyone has one. Let it go or you'll make yourself crazy."

Thanks Meg, but this one I'm not letting go of.

X X X X X

Logan and I met for lunch. Wallace was sitting with the jocks.

The first thing I did was ask him, sweetly, about the "body shots" incident.

"Oh. Right," he said sheepishly. "Kind of slipped my mind." At my glower, he said, "Look, Mars, you were wasted. I wasn't going to miss the opportunity to humiliate you." Then, a bit more softly. "But that is all I did."

"I said I believed you yesterday. I still do. But try not to let anything else like this 'slip your mind,' okay?"

"Aye-aye, Cap'n." Then I told him what I'd learned from Casey and Meg; he was also a little put off by Duncan's refusal. "Boy knows more than he's telling," he said.

"We think alike, Echolls."

"Wanna tag-team him later?"

"Sounds like a plan."

"So here's what I got from Luke and Sean," Logan said. "Luke said he'd taken his GHB and given it to Dick, who was planning to dose Madison and was also whining about her being on the Atkins diet. Madison was also the one who wrote nasty things all over your car."

"Probably because Dick kissed me," I said.

"Probably. Sean confirmed that Dick had been feeding you shots trying to keep you drunk. He also tried to get you to make out with Shelly Pomroy – but he watched while Dick dumped you on a bed – probably the one you woke up in – and also when Dick tried to get Beaver to have sex with you. According to him, he didn't stick around and watch." He grimaced. "You'd be proud of me, Mars. Not once did I even clench my fists. Although there's a locker around the corner from the gym that has a serious dent in right about now."

"Damn. This all seems like it's leading back to the Casablancas brothers and Madison, doesn't it?"

"Beaver may still be willing to talk to us. Good cop/bad cop?"

"Bad cop/psychotic cop."

"I get to be the psychotic cop."

I smiled. "Well, of course." I looked around. "We've still got a few minutes; want to head out to your car?"

"Why Veronica Mars," he said, "Are you trying to take advantage of me?"

"I don't think I'll need to try too hard."


	35. Chapter 35

Given the shifting nature of the recollections of Shelly Pomroy's party in A Trip to the Dentist -- in one person's reminiscences, Veronica sang "I Touch Myself," in another, Dick did, for instance -- I'm going to add a little testimony that contradicts something we saw in the episode. Just a forewarning. There is much borrowed from that episode in this section.

Thanks to all my reviewers and regular readers; I have never gotten this much feedback for ANYTHING before. Thanks so much.

X X X X X

After the short but fun makeout session in the X-Terra, we headed back to class. We jointly agreed that there was no point in questioning anyone else until we dealt with Duncan and Cassidy.

I also figured it probably wouldn't be worth talking to Shelly Pomroy herself. It sounded like she was as bad off as I was, whether she was drunk, drugged, whatever. As for the other 90 or so people, I had no idea what they knew.

We lay in wait for Cassidy at the end of the day. As he was leaving, Logan and I swooped in, guided him into the girls' restroom that served as my "office," and planted the Out of Order sign on the door. Once we got inside, Logan leaned against it so no one could get in or out.

Cassidy was looking around the room nervously, as though he were going to be able to find somewhere to hide.

Logan said, "That's not happiness to see us, is it, Beaver?"

"Um . . . what do you guys want?"

"Just the answers to some questions," I said. "For one thing: I just found out that Dick dumped me on a bed at Shelly Pomroy's party and invited you to have a go at me. Care to explain?" I used as pleasant a voice as I could.

"Nothing happened."

"Oh, no, Beave," I said. "Something happened. And now we're going to be told what." The or else was implied.

Cassidy said, "I swear to God, I didn't touch you. Dick, well, he was all on me to, and there was this freshman, her name's Cindy and she was supposed to be easy, and we, we were supposed to . . . well, you know. And then she was all over him --" he pointed to Logan -- "and they both left early."

I looked at Logan. "That part's true. Not the part about Cindy being easy, though." This actually proved to the 0.01 of me that was still a little uncertain that Logan had had nothing to do with it. That that 0.01 had still existed troubled me a bit, but then I've never actually been all about the trust.

"So what happened next?" Logan asked.

"When, when Dick noticed, he took me into the guest room with you. Dick -- well, he ran his hand up your thigh, while Sean watched. Dick asked if I needed him to 'get me started;' and I told them to go. Sean tossed me some condoms and they both left."

"And?"

"And I checked to see if you were okay, then ran out of the room and threw up. You know, my big night, I'm supposed to lose my virginity, and instead I puke on Carrie Bishop's shoes. Nothing happened. I, I swear on my life the last time I saw you you were passed out on the bed."

I looked over at Logan; he looked at me.

"How tragic of you to have to have seen that," Logan said, opening the door. "I feel for you, man. Really." As Cassidy moved past him, Logan grabbed his arm. "And we'd better not find out you're lying, Beaver. Just an unfriendly warning."

He ran out. "So," he asked. "Do we trust him?"

"We don't have to." I smiled.

"Why's that?"

"You'll see."

X X X X X

"We don't need coffee right now, Veronica."

"Not why we're here. But we're ordering something anyway."

We were in one of Neptune's many coffee shops. This one was special. Carrie Bishop worked here.

"What can I get you?"

I said, "A hot chocolate, an IBC, two magic cookie bars and two minutes of your time."

She sighed but said, "I'm busy, but go ahead."

"Do you remember Shelly's party last year?"

"Yeah."

"Two questions. First off, did Beaver Casablancas run out of the house and throw up on your shoes?"

She looked at me like I'd asked for a graphic description of her sex life. "What kind of question is that?"

"A weird one. Did he?" Logan asked.

"No. And I'd remember. I was wearing brand new heels. I would have been some pissed if Beaver had tossed his cookies on them."

I turned to Logan. He was getting it now. I didn't know why Cassidy had lied; it may have come as naturally as breathing to him. Or maybe he just didn't want me to find out what had really happened at the party.

Or maybe he'd been the one to rape me. Anything was possible.

"Do you remember anything else? Because I don't. Most of the night is a complete blank."

She leaned in and whispered the next part. "Yeah. I was passing the open door and I saw a man on top of you -- you were ripping off each other's clothes. I shut the door to give you two some privacy."

"Who was it?"

With a lot of reluctance, she said, "It was Duncan. Duncan Kane."

Duncan? Duncan wouldn't . . . I mean, he was a nice . . .

All of a sudden I couldn't take it anymore. I walked away from the counter. Carrie yelled something after me about whether I still wanted my magic cookie bars. Tossing a twenty at her, Logan said, "Keep the change" and ran after me.

When we got back to the X-Terra, Logan handed me the keys. "What do you want me to do with these?" I said.

"Drive. If I get behind the wheel right now I'm not likely to stop until the front bumper is pinning Duncan to some wall somewhere."

Throwing the keys back to him, I said, "That's why I don't want them either."

"Then let's go."

"What?"

"We're both pissed. Let's surf the wave of anger."

When we went to the Kane estate, Duncan was home – his car was in the driveway. We walked up and pounded on the front door.

When Duncan opened it, Logan shoved him backward and into the house and I shut the door behind me.

"What's going on?" Duncan asked.

"Here's what's going on," I said. "Carrie Bishop said that you and I were in bed together during Shelly Pomroy's party. Care to fill me in on the details?"

"Huh?"

Logan stepped up until his and Duncan's noses were practically touching. Coldly, he said, "Answer the question."

"Well, then, no. I don't want to give you the details."

"Wrong answer." And then Logan hit Duncan in the face, knocking him down. When he stood up his nose was starting to bleed. He wiped it off on his sleeve.

"Dude, what the hell?" Duncan said as he stood up.

"Tell us," Logan said. "Tell us how you raped Veronica."

"I did what?" Duncan said, at the same time another voice said, "He did what?"

I looked up. Oh, _hell . . ._

Meg.

When she saw Duncan's nose, she ran to get some paper towels, came over, handed them to Duncan and stood behind him. "Veronica? What's Logan talking about?"

I really didn't want to get her involved in this. She was too nice, too good a person.

Too late now.

"Duncan," I said. "Carrie Bishop said she walked into the guest bedroom and you were naked and taking off my underwear."

"Did you ever think she might be lying to you?" Meg said loyally.

Actually, I hadn't thought of that. But while she might want to hurt _me_, she had no reason to hurt Duncan or Meg.

Duncan said, "She's not." He then looked into my eyed. "But I didn't rape you. I wouldn't. I, I thought we had some unspoken rule like we were never going to talk about it." He threw up his hands. "But now I'm a rapist and a murderer."

"You're not a murderer. We think someone else killed Lilly," I said distractedly, looking at Logan for confirmation.

"No. You're not. You're only a rapist."

"I didn't rape her!" Duncan yelled. Then, looking at me. "It was consensual."

"It can't be consensual if I don't remember it," I said.

That brought him up short. "You what?"

"Somebody drugged me," I said. "I remember passing out by the pool and waking up in the guest bedroom. Everything between that," I snapped my fingers, "zilch."

Duncan looked at Meg. "Please – I don't want you to hear this."

I added, "Yes, Meg. This isn't something you should have to deal with."

"My boyfriend and a good friend of mine are arguing about whether he raped her. I think this is something I want to deal with." There was a steel in her voice I'd never heard before.

After looking around the room, Duncan said, "I swear to God, Veronica. It was consensual." He described what had happened from his point of view. He'd come into the guest bedroom and seen me there. He woke me up and I put my arms around him, telling him I'd missed him, and that that's when it started."

"You had no idea I was completely out of it?"

"How could I have," he said, anguished.

"Then, dude," Logan said. "Why the hell did you abandon her the next morning?"

"Exactly. If it was as tender and loving as you say it was, why did I wake up by myself looking for my underwear? If what you did wasn't wrong, _why did you leave?"_

"Because I did do something wrong."

"What?" He didn't answer. "What about that is so wrong?"

"Because you're my sister!" he screamed. "And I knew it! Even after my mother told me, I tried to cut you out of my life. I loved you! I tried not to, but it wouldn't go away!"

Meg looked like she wanted to run from the room, but didn't. She was a lot stronger than I'd ever given her credit for.

I began to cry. Logan came over, put his arms around me, and said, "She's your sister?"

"Her mother. My father. They had an affair. They'd been having one for years," Duncan said. "Mom told me about it and that's when I broke it off with you. I couldn't even face you! And then – and then after she said you were my sister, I –"

"Your mother told you what?" came a voice from behind me.

I turned around.

Jake Kane.


	36. Chapter 36

It's venting time.

Disclaimer: Rob Thomas is lucky and gifted enough to own Veronica Mars. I, alas, am not.

X X X X X

I spoke first. "Hi, Dad."

"Not funny, Veronica," Meg said.

"Not meant to be, Meg," was my reply.

Jake ignored all of this byplay and went and stood directly next to Duncan. "What did your mother tell you?" he repeated quietly.

"She told me you and Lianne Mars were having an affair and that Veronica was the result."

He looked at me, then back at Duncan. "So that's why the two of you broke up." More angrily, "She had no right –"

"No right?" Duncan demanded. "No right to tell me I might be on the verge of _incest_?" Jake had no answer to that. There wasn't one. "Oh, no," he said scornfully. "Mom shouldn't have told me. Maybe then Veronica and I could have gotten married and produced little mutant babies."

Logan said, "Duncan, shut up. You don't get to claim the moral high ground on this one."

"Logan --" Duncan said.

"You knew it could be true and you slept. With. Her. Anyway. Without her even knowing --"

Logan never saw Duncan's fist coming. It caught him in the face and knocked him clear across the room, where he smashed into the wall. As Logan stood up, shakily, Duncan looked like he was going to continue the fight.

Enough was enough. I pulled out Mr. Taser and held it against Duncan's stomach. "I don't want to use this on you, Duncan," I said. "Don't make me."

Duncan stopped, looked down, looked across the room at Logan, and ran off towards the back of the house. As Meg moved to follow him, Jake said "Don't. He's not good company when he's like this." Meg stopped.

I put away the taser and went over to check on Logan. He was flexing his right elbow a bit – it had hit the wall first – but otherwise seemed okay.

"Since when is Duncan the Incredible Hulk?" he muttered as he stood up.

"Now that all of that's settled," Jake Kane said, "Would someone tell me what's going on here?"

Meg looked down at the ground. Logan looked at me.

Right, Veronica. Guess you're volunteered.

In my wildest dreams I never would have thought I'd be telling the story of my rape to Jake Kane. Especially before telling my father. But I did. Told him about the party, about what happened, and about how Logan and I decided to investigate.

I still didn't have the full story. For one thing, I still didn't know who'd spiked the drink with GHB. For another, I still had to find out why Beaver had lied to Logan and me. But Jake Kane wasn't going to find that out from me.

When I was done he said, "You're accusing my son –"

"Your son admitted it," Meg said unexpectedly. "But I don't think he was in control of himself at the time." She looked at me with the last one.

"I'm not going to be pressing any charges, if that's what you're worried about," I said. "Besides, it's not like Don Lamb would believe me this time any more than he did last time." Then, bitterly, "Been meaning to thank you for that, by the way."

"How is this my fault?"

"Simple," Logan said. "Sheriff Mars comes after you. You have him thrown out of office. Veronica gets raped. The guy you install laughs at her. Of course, given your track record of covering your family's ass, if Lamb had tried you'd probably have had him thrown out of office, too. If not summarily executed."

A range of emotions played across Jake Kane's face: Denial, anger, fear, and finally acceptance. It was like watching someone go through the stages of grieving in five seconds. "You're not going to take this any further?"

"My father doesn't even know," I said. I suspected I'd have to tell him eventually. But in a situation where he couldn't immediately tear off to the Sheriff's Office to rip Lamb into tiny pieces. Like, say, in a stalled elevator. In New York City.

"Well, then," he said, seeming to come to a decision. "Let's settle this once and for all, then." He grabbed my wrist.

Logan was there five seconds later bending his fingers back. "Easy there, Jakey boy," he said. "Touch Veronica again for any reason without her express written consent and the consent of Major League Baseball and I guarantee you plastic surgery will not fix what I'll do to you."

"I wasn't going to hurt her," he protested.

"No," I said venomously, "You have Clarence Weidman do that for you."

And then dead silence. Jake's expression was unreadable. Meg's ranged from anger to worry and back again. And Logan had that stoic expression he always has when he's in a really, really bad mood.

I wasn't about to let him off the hook. "Just like you have him do other things. Like -- I'll bet -- you had him cover up for the fact that you think Duncan killed Lilly in an epileptic rage." I was guessing here, but the way he reacted combined with how Clarence Weidman had acted when he confronted me and Logan confirmed my hunch. "Which, by the way, he didn't. Just like you had him drive my mother out of town." I took a step closer until we were practically nose to nose. "My mother drank herself into a coma because of you. Dad told me how you paid for a rush job on the brainscan. Don't think that earns you any points."

"Veronica," he said, "I didn't mean for that to happen."

Interrupting him, I said, "I see where Duncan gets it from. It happened. You let it. You. Stood. Idly. By."

"I'm--"

"The next word out of your mouth had better not even remotely resemble the word 'sorry.' You don't have the right to say that."

After a second. "I guess I don't."

"No."

Meg said, "I'm going to go check on Duncan." I think I was the only one who noticed her leave.

"Look. I at least owe you an apology for grabbing your arm. All I meant was, 'Let's settle this issue of whether or not I'm your father.' That way we can set Duncan's mind at ease, at least."

"You're not my father," I said. "You will never be my father. The most you will ever be is a sperm donor."

"Fine. Biological father, then. But I'm not thinking of myself. I'm thinking of Duncan."

"If you think --" Logan said.

"No," I said. "That's probably the only thing he's said right in this discussion. We can take a load off Duncan's mind --"

"Or scar him for life," Logan said.

"Could he be any worse than he is now?"

Logan sighed. "I guess not."

"Good." I turned to Jake Kane. "You can get the testing started tonight?" He nodded. "Let's do this, then." I looked at Logan. "Come with?"

"Wild pterodactyls couldn't keep me away."

"Then let's make sure of Meg and Duncan --"

"I'll do it," Logan said.

"He tried to hit you."

Logan shrugged. "Male bonding." He left the room.

After a long period of silence, "You said that Duncan didn't kill Lilly."

I looked at him. "Father of the year you aren't."

He sighed. "What I meant to say, is that just faith in my son or do you know who did it?"

"Isn't it Abel Koontz?" I asked innocently. "I mean, he is on death row and all --"

"You know better than that, Veronica."

"Yes. I do. But I can't tell you."

"Why not? You wouldn't say this unless you had proof."

"You're probably right," I said. "But I can't tell you." As though I had a flash of inspiration, I said, "Why not ask Clarence? He seems to know everything else."

I knew I was taking a risk here. But I hadn't yet broken my word to Clarence Weidman and I got the impression he was one of those people who stuck by his bargains.

Before a frowning Jake Kane could answer, Logan, Meg and Duncan came back. He and Duncan seemed to have made up.

Duncan came over to me. "Veronica," he said.

"We're good," I said.

"But I --"

"We're good," I said. "I believe you. I understand why you did what you did. I just wish I'd known it a year ago."

"If I'd known --"

"I get that, now." And then. "Are you going to be okay?"

"I think so," he said.

"Try not to think about it. Let Meg help."

I went over to Meg. "Are you --"

"This has been eye-opening," she said. "First you accuse Duncan of rape, then he admits it, then you tear Jake Kane a new one, and then you forgive Duncan."

"I'm sorry you had to see it."

"I'm not," she said. "It taught me never, _ever _to get on your bad side."

"Do you hate me?" I asked.

She snorted. "No. But I understand a lot more about you now. Try not to divide my loyalty like that again."

I smiled for a second. "I think I'm through making accusations against Duncan for the time being."

Jake looked at Logan and me. "I assume we'll be taking separate cars?"

Logan smirked. "Good assumption. I can see now that finely tuned mind that made you the billionaire you are today."

Jake gave me the address and Logan and I went back outside.

When we got to the X-Terra, Logan gave me a long, long kiss. "Whew," I said when he was done. "What was that for?"

"You are awesome to watch," he said. "I mean it."

"Thanks. And thanks for backing me up in there." After a brief pause, "Are you and Duncan okay?"

"Yeah. We are. He hit me, I hit me, everything's good."

We drove to the address Jake Kane provided. Logan stayed with me in the waiting room while I heard Jake Kane promise massive lawsuits if anything remotely connected to this ever got out. The only thing I said to him was to call me with the results on the cell phone.

Then I went in, they took my blood, and I left.

X X X X X

After all of that, Logan still had to drive me back to school to pick up my car. He followed me back home.

On the way, Dad called me. He'd tracked down Abel Koontz's daughter -- whose name was Amelia Delongpre -- and was trying to convince her that her father was innocent. He hadn't gotten a yes, but he hadn't gotten a "bug off," either. He had a coffee scheduled with her the next morning to make his case in greater detail.

In the meantime, he'd also confirmed my hunch of earlier in the day. He'd taken his file of the Kane murder case with him and had noticed a cell phone call from Jake Kane to Clarence Weidman that had to have occurred AFTER they'd discovered Lilly's body. I'd been right. They were covering up for what they thought Duncan had done. I wished to hell I could tell Dad, but I was keeping my word to Clarence Weidman to the letter.

Logan and I both parked and headed for my front door.

A figure stepped out from behind a nearby SUV.

Clarence Weidman.

"Miss Mars," he said, "I have something for you."


	37. Chapter 37

No cliffhanger this time around. But I'm guessing you won't miss it . . . and we hit part of Kanes and Abels, though it will obviously be severely altered.

Disclaimer: Veronica Mars belongs to Rob Thomas. Only this particular storyline is mine.

X X X X X

Best face forward, Veronica.

Logan instinctively moved to get in front of me. I held him back. One thing I knew about Clarence Weidman was that if he wanted us dead, we'd be dead.

Don't get me wrong. I still loathed him with a fiery passion. But I had him pegged as having a sense of honor. Not the kind of sense of honor I could live with, but a sense of honor anyway.

"Hi, Clarence," I said. "Fancy meeting you here. Nice night for a stroll in front of my apartment building, isn't it?"

"I have a question for you."

"For you, Clarence? My life is an open book."

"What exactly did you tell Mr. Kane that got him asking me questions about who killed his daughter?"

"What?" I said in mock disbelief. "You weren't listening in the entire time? Shame, shame. No bonus for you this month."

"Contrary to popular opinion, Miss Mars, I am not in fact Superman. I can't be everywhere at once. So once again, what did you tell Mr. Kane?"

"In the course of another discussion, I told him that Duncan hadn't killed Lilly. He asked me if I knew or it was just my belief in his son. I refused to tell him. He pressed me. I told him that, since you were so good at doing other things, why not ask you?"

He frowned. "That violates our deal."

"It does no such thing. You told me to stop looking for Abel Koontz and stop trying to prove Logan not guilty. I've kept my word _to the letter_."

"I also," he said, "Told you to stop stirring things up."

Logan said, "Jakey boy was the one stirring things up. We didn't come there to talk to him, and we weren't talking about Lilly."

"Yes, Mr. Echolls. Mr. Kane told me about how Miss Mars thought Duncan had raped her."

I was beginning to get a little angry. "Thought nothing, _Clarence_. Legally, he did. But I already promised not to press charges or anything. So there's no need to threaten us again."

"You misunderstand, Miss Mars. For that, at least, I was going to express my sympathies."

Clarence Weidman was going to express his sympathies. I didn't know whether to laugh, cry, or throw up.

"Anyway," I said tightly, "In the middle of all of this I suddenly got kind of pissed at his lack of faith in his son."

And finally Clarence Weidman expressed some emotion. He laughed. "In the middle of accusing Duncan Kane of rape you get angry because his father was accusing him of murder?"

"I'd already decided he wasn't morally responsible for the rape," I said.

"I see."

After a silence, Logan asked, "So. You happy with our answers or do I need to buy a one-way ticket to Madagascar?"

"Madagascar?" I asked.

"I've always liked lemurs."

Weidman said, "Fine, Miss Mars, Mr. Echolls. I'm not going to go back on my word because of one minor lapse. But I want you to know you've caused me a great deal of trouble." I must have looked like I was ready to laugh, because he said, "I realize you don't care about that."

"I wouldn't care if you fell into a blast furnace," I said.

"I know. And in the same circumstances, I'd feel the same way." After a second, "I said I had something for you."

"I'd assumed it was a hard time." I knew it couldn't be the paternity results. No lab in the world was that fast.

"No." He went into his SUV and took out a sealed package and a mailing envelope. "My advice to you is to look at what's inside briefly, then burn the contents and the envelope." He bowed slightly. "Have a good day."

He left.

Logan and I didn't say a word until we were both inside the apartment.

Logan went to sit down on the couch while I took Backup for a fast walk, fed him and changed his water.

Then, and only then, did we open the envelope.

There was a note from Clarence Weidman – basically repeating what he told us outside, burn this stuff as soon as we were done with it. He told us "the part of the tape you will be most interested in occurs 27:18 in." He gave no other specifics and didn't sign it. Smart of him.

Underneath it was an official inventory list of all evidence connected with the Lilly Kane murder case.

The originals from the Sheriff's office. Somewhere down the second page it mentioned the "Baked in Ensenada" shot glass. There were also similar lists from the Balboa County District Attorney's office.

There were two things inside the package. One was the aforementioned shot glass. The other was a videotape whose label read 100303 0830-1130.

We popped it into the VCR and watched it. It seemed be a surveillance tape of the US-Mexico border from the morning of October 3, 2003. The day of Lilly's murder.

Knowing what we were going to see, we still fast forwarded to the 27 minute mark of the tape. And Logan passed over the border exactly 18 seconds later. After watching him drive off, Logan switched off the TV and took out the tape.

Then we sat back down.

"Who the hell is Clarence Weidman that he can get this?" Logan asked, holding the videotape.

I knew what he meant. "I have no idea. I mean, infiltrating the Neptune Police Department is one thing. But this? This would involve the Department of Homeland Security."

I looked at him. He looked at me. "Are you thinking what I'm thinking?"

"We need to get rid of this stuff as of yesterday," I said. "If we're caught with these," I said, holding up the shot glass and the inventory lists, "We go to jail for a while. If we're caught with that –" I pointed to the videotape – "We go get to spend time in a little room while men with a constitutional right to no sense of humor who make Jack Bauer look like a wuss ask us a lot of pointed questions."

I went over to the stove and carefully burned first the letter, then all the inventory lists. I dropped the burning sheets into the sink, waited until they were ashes and turned on the water. To the best of my knowledge, Dad had the only copy left in existence.

And I wasn't getting to that one unless I stole his entire safe. Which was something I wouldn't do unless things were really going to hell.

We couldn't burn the shot glass. Not with any fire we might able to get going. But of the two items we had left, I was least worried about that.

I grabbed the can of lighter fluid and went outside to the barbecue. A little charcoal, a little poking, and soon the videotape was a charred mess. This charred mess I picked up with an oven mitt, snapped into pieces (with little bits of ash floating away in the light wind), and pointed Logan in one direction and told him to find a dumpster for his half while I went in the opposite direction.

When we got back, we disposed of the glass by smashing it to pieces in the parking lot, then sweeping up the pieces and driving to the beach in Logan's X-Terra, where we poured them into four different trashcans.

By the time we sat down on the couch for the last time it was well past 10 PM. Logan gave me a kiss on the front porch and told me he had to go. "After all," he said, "your father, guns, all of that . ."

I opened the door and pulled him inside. "What my father doesn't know won't hurt him."

Once I shut the door I looked at Backup. "Say anything and no kibble for a week."

Logan looked at me like I was crazy and said, "So, what –"

I shut up him up the best way possible: by kissing him as hard as he'd kissed me on the Kane front lawn.

When I was done I said, before he could ask, "Because you deserve it."

I walked back to my bedroom.

Logan didn't follow me.

"The idea," I called out, "Was for you to come back here with me."

He took a couple of steps closer. Dear god, was I going to have to drag him? "Are you sure about this?" he asked.

I took a step up to him and said, "Yes!" while kissing him again.

Another step – another kiss – another step – another kiss – and finally I had him where I wanted him.

"Are you sure you're sure?"

Me pulling his shirt off was the only answer he got.

He got the idea and pulled my shirt off immediately after that.

And we spent much of the night exploring each other . . . fully.

Yes, that means we finally had sex.

You want more details than that?

Well, you're not getting them.

But as we lay there, after, I told him, "That was as nice a first experience as I could have imagined."

"You weren't so bad yourself, Machiavelli. But –"

"Shh," I said, pressing my finger to his lips. "As far as I'm concerned, that _was_ my first time. Nothing else counts."

X X X X X

The next morning Logan dressed and got out of there quickly. With my blessings. His X-Terra was still in the driveway and he was wearing yesterday's clothes.

I took my time washing, getting dressed, and walking Backup, and was practically whistling the whole way.

I know, I know: Never invite disaster like that. But I was in a really good mood. I'd more or less solved my rape. I'd read Jake Kane the riot act. I'd gotten Clarence Weidman yelled at. I had destroyed the evidence pointing towards Logan. Dad was, maybe, on the verge of proving Abel Koontz not guilty.

And I'd had sex.

And – though I didn't have a wide range of experiences to draw on – I'd had a really good time. And unless Logan was a better actor than his father, so had he.

So. Off to school.

Midterms started today. It wasn't like I'd had a whole lot of time to study, but these classes were ones I was so caught up on I could have done none at all and coasted to a B. Of course, that wouldn't get me the coveted Lilly Kane scholarship that Celeste and Jake had recently announced.

I was actually invited to their house in a couple of days for the "official announcement." That would be fun.

For fun read "not fun."

Anyway, I was still in a good mood. And when Sabrina Fuller asked me to help prove that Caz Truman was stalking her to get her midterm grades to drop, and was willing to pay me $500 to do it, I was in an even better mood.

No, it wasn't going to last. We still had the Casablancas brothers to worry about, and proving Aaron killed Lilly, and finding out who dosed my drink.

But my extended good moods are rare. Let me enjoy them.


	38. Chapter 38

Mac's last line in the lunchtime conversation is a quote from the relevant computer game, which this long after its release remains one of the funniest 1st-person shooters ever to exist. We are now into the severely altered Kanes and Abels.

Otherwise, a more or less light transition chapter.

Disclaimer: I do not own Veronica Mars. Someone else does. Lucky someone.

X X X X X

I actually managed to enjoy this good mood for the better part of a couple of days.

One of my records, sadly.

Both Mac and Wallace sat with me and Logan at lunch that day. I invited Meg and Duncan to sit too but neither one of them seemed especially comfortable with the idea.

A little distance might do us some good for the moment anyway. Based on yesterday I didn't think we'd all end up hating each other.

Logan and Mac spent most of the lunch speaking about video games in what might as well have been a foreign tongue to me.

"Wallace," I said while they were arguing about whether the Sims was one of the best or worst ideas ever created, "Buddy. Friend."

Rolling his eyes, he said, "Who this time?"

"Why, Wallace. What makes you think I want something from you?"

"Long and bitter experience."

I laughed and said, "Caz Truman's file. Sabrina Fuller thinks he's been stalking her and I want to see if there're any similar incidents on his record."

"Done."

Then I turned and said, "All video games stink!" As Mac and Logan turned and looked at me with murder on their minds, I said, "Knew that would get your attention. Now then. Mac, I need a favor from you and Wallace." As Wallace protested, I said, "A serious one. Logan, I'll need your help too."

"Of course," Logan said.

"I can't tell you why, yet. But I need to have people I can trust around when I tell somebody something . . . delicate." Logan looked at me, startled. I think he knew what I meant. "I'll tell you before it all goes down. But this is too public."

Wallace sighed. "What the hell. In for a penny and all that."

"Mac?" I asked.

"Nothing physical will be involved?"

"Walking, talking, breathing . . ." At her mild glare, I said, "No."

"I'll do it." After a second. "I miss the old days when all you'd do is ask me for computer help."

"Sorry about that, Willow," I said. "But we all knew you'd have to start going out on patrol sometime."

"Try not to actually keep calling me that," Mac muttered.

And now Mac and I got the "You-have-two-heads look" so known and loved by geeks everywhere.

"So, Mars," Logan said eventually. "MacKenzie and I were going to do another video game challenge this afternoon."

"Fine by me," I said. "I've got a stalker to stalk."

"My turn to pick an old game this time," Mac said. "Redneck Rampage."

Wallace sputtered out his soda as I started laughing. "They actually have a computer game," he said, "Called Redneck Rampage?"

"It's about 7-8 years old by now, but yeah," Mac said.

"This I gotta see," Wallace said.

"Okay," Logan said, "But no snide commentary this time."

"Hold on a second," I said. "You. Logan Echolls. The undisputed master of the snarky comment. Are asking someone not to be a smartass." He nodded. "That's like Ashlee Simpson telling someone they have a lousy singing voice."

"There are two things I take seriously," Logan said. "Video games are one of them." And a look at me told me what the other one was.

I gave him a quick kiss. Logan looked happy. Mac looked amused. Wallace looked elsewhere.

When I was done, Mac said, in an atrocious southern accent, "Echolls, my advice to you is to start drinkin' heavy."

"That's advice I can take."

After we were done, as we walked back to class, Logan asked, "Are you sure you want to tell him?"

Ticking it off on my fingers, I said, "Me, you, Lamb, Duncan, Meg, Jake Kane, Clarence Weidman. I can't see any of them deliberately telling him, but I don't want to take chance on it getting back to him before I can tell him myself."

"Makes sense," he said. "So. Wanna go doubleteam Beaver again?'"

"Not today. I'm still in a really good mood and I don't want to spoil it."

"I'm betting I have something to do with that good mood," he murmured.

I elbowed him in the ribs. "Something. Not everything. Egomaniac."

X X X X X

I caught Caz in the parking lot after work and told him to quit harassing Sabrina; he acted surprised and stunned by my accusations; I told him what had been happening; he denied everything and drove off.

They never want to make it easy. Of course, that's what makes it so much fun.

I went to Dad's office to do some paperwork; a woman came in and wanted to hire dad to set her husband up so that he'd violate their pre-nup by cheating on him. It was amusing for a while, but once she got to the "he likes blondes -- about like you, maybe you could do it, actually . . ." part, I threw her out of the office. She was muttering something about Vinnie van Lowe as she left.

I looked over Caz's file while I was waiting. Quite a bit of mischief for our boy Caz. Nothing overly malicious, though. More on the order of "put a twenty on a string and yank it away" then "kill ex-girlfriend's puppy." Given that Sabrina's mother is president of the school board, though, I doubted she'd let her daughter date anyone with more of a record than that. If Sabrina even looked in Weevil's direction, I think her mom would keel over of a heart attack.

Right as I was about to close up shop, Dad walked in whistling a jaunty tune and carrying a briefcase. When he saw me, he held out the briefcase and said, "Guess what I have in here!"

"A million in uncut emeralds?"

"Wrong!"

"Marcellus Wallace's soul?"

"Wrong! I have," he said, pulling a sheaf of papers out of the brief case, "Amelia DeLongpre's settlement papers with Kane Software!"

"You don't!"

"I do!"

I laughed in happiness and ran up to hug him. "Now don't get too excited, Veronica," he said. "This isn't enough to get Abel Koontz out of jail."

Frowning, I said, "But that plus the shoes --"

"Equals reasonable doubt in a court of law. If we were still in the trial phase, we'd get him cleared. But he's already on death row, sweetie. We could go to the papers and raise a stink about this but Cliff wouldn't get very far before a judge. We still need that smoking gun."

"Then make copies and spread them around."

"Done and done," he said. "One goes in my safe, one's with Cliff, and the other one is somewhere I'm not telling so you don't get any ideas."

"Can I at least look at these for a second?"

He said sure, but he wasn't leaving the room while I did. I looked them over and got Dad's point. The numbers were big, the timing was awfully convenient, but there wasn't anything spelling out the nature of the agreement. Not that Jake Kane's a big enough idiot to spell out "In exchange for umpty-ump million dollars to Amelia DeLongpre, Abel Koontz will confess to murdering my daughter," but still.

"So how have your last couple of days been?"

Oh, fine. Told off Jake Kane, went to take a paternity test with him, flirted with being declared an enemy of the state, had sex with Logan. You? "Pretty good. Sabrina Fuller's being harassed by someone at school and I'm trying to figure out who. Otherwise, nothing big."

"Good. Because you know --"

"Backup reports everything. Yes Dad. You've told me."

"And I will be asking."

"I'm sure you will."

Of course, if Backup actually did talk, I was a dead woman.

X X X X X

That night, I went over to Sabrina's and waited for her harassed to put in an appearance. An hour or so later -- and a more boring hour I've never spent, honestly, Sabrina Fuller may be a genius, and I'm not too shabby myself in the brain department, but all academics all the time is not my idea of a fun way to spend a life.

I caught Caz Truman lurking nearby -- as I told him, the innocent rarely lurk -- and not long afterwards a bunch of ravers showed up. To my surprise, none of them seemed to recognize Caz as the guy who'd told them to come. Of course, from the amount of drugs they'd taken, they probably wouldn't have recognized their own mothers.

On the way home, I called Logan.

"Hey, Mars," he said.

"Before you ask," I said, "No chance of a repeat performance of last night. At least not tonight. Dad's home."

"What's the matter?" he asked. "Don't like to live dangerously?"

"Dangerously, not suicidally. So how'd the Redneck Rampage challenge go?" His response was unintelligible. "What was that?"

"She beat me again, okay?" I laughed. "Nice to see you're being so supportive of your boyfriend."

"Awww," I said, "Did the big bad blue-haired hacker chick strike a devastating blow to your male ego? Want Veronica to come over and make it all better?"

"No, and," his voice got sexy for a second, "Absolutely."

For a second, I was tempted. Then I remembered that Dad was actually home and would probably not take kindly to his daughter spending all night at the Echolls residence. "Evil tempter," I said.

"Awww," he said, "Is Vewonica's wibido in overdwive?"

"Well, it was until you did your Elmer Fudd impression."

"Hey, short bald hunters need love too."

"Goodnight, Logan."

X X X X X

The next day at school was a fairly easy one. I breezed through my midterms, Duncan and Meg actually talked to me for a few minutes, and Logan and I got some quality makeout time before school, during lunch, and immediately afterwards.

I decided against confronting Beaver Casablancas again until I was actually between cases. Let him think I'd bought his lie.

As far as who'd put the GHB in my drink went, I had my theories: It wasn't Dick, Sean, Beaver, Duncan or Logan. None of the other guys there would have done it without being around to take advantage of it. It wasn't Carrie Bishop's style, it sure as hell hadn't been Meg, and Shelly Pomroy, from all accounts, had been as out of it as I was.

As far as I was concerned, that left two options: accident . . . and Madison Sinclair.

Tomorrow, let's see what's behind door number two.

In the meantime . . . here I was, standing in front of the Kane mansion for the second time in three days. Tonight, it's for the Lilly Kane scholarship.

I rang the bell and waited.

Jake and Celeste opened the door. Celeste walked away immediately after greeting me. As I walked in, Jake whispered in my ear, "The results are in. I'll tell you about them when I have the time."

And right then is when my good mood came to a screeching halt.


	39. Chapter 39

Just a warning: There is something I will not be doing in this fic that I see done in a lot of other fics once . . . something . . . has been resolved. You'll figure out what it is.

Kanes and Abels territory, still. And yes, that is a real plot from the first season of _The Closer_.

Disclaimer: Rob Thomas created _Veronica Mars_. I am not Rob Thomas.

X X X X X

The shindig itself was your typical '09er parent party, if with fewer guests. If it wasn't for that and the lack of carolers outside singing "God Rest Ye Merry, Gentlemen," we could have just as easily have all been at the Echolls Christmas party.

Well, that and the lack of psychopathic waitresses with knives.

Sabrina was there, too, but I wasn't able to talk to her to find out if there had been any other harassment.

Jake announced the scholarship -- Lilly, who was no intellectual, would have found the notion hysterical. Then he invited everyone over to the dinner table. I looked out to the pool area.

I don't know what drew me out there, except that I'd never been back to -- to the spot where Lilly died -- since the day it happened. I looked at the site as though there were something there that could prove that Aaron Echolls had killed her.

No such luck. Even Don Lamb isn't that incompetent. And, of course, even if he was, Clarence Weidman isn't. Any evidence they'd found would have, presumably, long since been dumped into the nearest incinerator.

From behind me, a voice asked if I was okay.

I turned around. Duncan was there too, looking at the same spot. "You're not hiding from me, I hope."

"I'd've thought it was more the other way around."

He gave a small grin. "You said we're good. I'm good with you as well. I can't imagine what you must have been going through . . . not knowing like that." He paused. "But I am sorry for any pain I caused you. I never, ever wanted to hurt you."

"I know," I said.

"I come here a lot."

"Well, it's your house."

"No. I mean here, here. Where it happened. To think about her. At first I begged my parents to sell this place. I kept imagining the last thoughts that went through he heard. But now? It's kind of peaceful. When I'm here, I feel like she's still with me." After a second, "Dad says you're convinced I didn't do it."

"I am," I said. "I know you didn't. Not even by . . . accident."

"How can you be sure when I don't even remember."

"I am," I said. "I can't say why."

"Oh. It might impede the investigation."

"Right." Let him believe that.

"How did you find out about my epilepsy?"

Oh, when I went to your doctor I stole your files. So how 'bout them Padres? "Carrie Bishop was gossiping about it in the restroom a while back. I was concerned, so when I found out about other incidents, I put two and two together." There. A half-truth.

"I don't like Carrie Bishop," he said after a long pause.

"Join the club."

"There you two are," Jake Kane's voice said, a bit loudly, from behind them. "I was wondering where you two had snuck off to!" Ah. Celeste was watching from the window. "Well, come on in, the lamb's getting cold!"

As he and Duncan were blocking Celeste's view, he whipped out a couple of sheets of paper and handed them to me. "Read them later," he said.

I put them in my pocket.

As we walked back I said in a whisper, "If you're trying to drag this out for dramatic effect I swear I'll break your arm."

Jake laughed like I'd just said something hysterically funny. "I'm not your father, Veronica."

Duncan said, "She's not?" at the same time I said, "Thank God."

Jake Kane looked almost hurt at that. Too damn bad. Let him be hurt. "I'd be proud if you were," he said. "But for my son's peace of mind --" and Duncan, indeed, seemed like he'd had a weight lifted, "I'm glad you're not."

As you can imagine, after that the rest of the evening was something of an anticlimax.

I left as early as I could without pissing off Miss Manners. Duncan caught up to me at the door.

"We're not related," he said, grinning, as he walked with me to my car.

"Well, you don't have to sound so excited about it."

"You know why --"

"I know." We stopped right in front of the LeBaron.

"At least now you get why I've been so awkward with you for the last year and a half."

"You mean my frantic search for right deodorant was all for nothing?" I said, pouting. "Oh, poo."

"Around here, Veronica, I think everyone uses Secret."

I burst out laughing.

"God, I've missed that," he said. "I've missed you."

My laughter stopped very quickly. "Duncan --"

After a second, he said, "Relax. I'm not going where the look on your face made me realize you thought I was going." A pause. "Did that make sense? Anyway, I have no plans on dumping Meg and coming after you. I think you'd kill me if I did."

"If Logan didn't beat me to it."

"I'm just hoping that we can be friends again. Actual friends. I think -- I think Lilly would like that, if nothing else."

I said, "I think she would too."

We hugged, and then I got in my car and left.

X X X X X

Not straight home; I was heading over to the Echolls' place. I called Logan on my way over.

"You and Mac didn't both get Pac-Man Fever, did you?"

He laughed. "No, we managed to restrain our competitive urges for one night."

"Speaking of urges . . ."

"I thought you'd never ask." Lynn Echolls, if you're wondering, was in LA for a week filming her part in _The Closer_. I think she was going to play the mother of some rich kid whose family would do anything to make sure their son wasn't convicted of murdering a young woman.

I figure all she needed to do was ask Celeste Kane.

Along the way, I mentioned that oh by the way I wasn't actually Jake Kane's daughter and that Duncan and I had come to an understanding.

"Are you sure, Machiavelli?" he asked a bit nervously. "During the confrontation, he said how much he loved you . . ."

"I think he understands that the past tense is the important part there," I said. "Anyway, he loved the old me. The pink frilly me."

"And not the badass you've become?"

"You think I'm a badass?"

"Let's see. You told off Jake Kane, got two Casablancases arrested, tasered a Sinclair, and invaded the Echolls estate. I'd say your status as a badass is pretty much cemented."

Once I got there, I kissed him all the way from the front door to his bedroom.

Then we did other fun and delightful things. At least twice.

Unfortunately, tonight I couldn't linger. Dad being home, and all that.

As I was getting dressed, I said, "So should I leave the money on the bureau?"

"Two hundred per," he said. "No discounts just 'cause I like you."

"Two hundred?" I said, raising my eyebrows. "Boy, are you undercharging."

"How much were you thinking?"

"All the gold in Fort Knox."

"I don't think that'll fit on my bureau."

"Ah well." I made a show of checking my purse. "I'm a little short this time."

"You're a little short every time."

"Was that a crack about my height?"

"No, no," he said. "You have to have height for someone to make a crack about it." Then he sat up. "Anyway. Beaver and Madison tomorrow?"

"No . . . I think tomorrow it's my Dad."

He got serious immediately. "Are you sure?"

I sighed. "Yeah. I'm sure."

"So why do you want Wallace and Mac there?"

"I'd invite the PCH'ers if they'd all fit. I just want as many people as possible to be between my Dad and the door when I tell him how Lamb reacted."

"The PCH'ers; hell, Mars, you'd better invite the Marines."

"How many?"

"All of them."

X X X X X

The next day, Sabrina was really, really upset because she'd gotten an 86 on AP Bio, and screamed at me for not having gotten Caz to stop.

I'd thought about it, thought. Caz's record didn't indicate vindictiveness, and his behavior didn't either. And the failure of the ravers to point to him, while not conclusive, had been enough to make me suspect that someone else might be behind this. My suspicions ran in the direction of Hamilton Cho, who now led the senior class in GPA and was therefore in line for the Kane scholarship.

Hamilton Cho's father ran a pizza place with a fairly good reputation, so after work I invited Wallace and Mac to join me and Logan for some Cho's pizza. On the way down, I told them everything about my rape, Lamb's reaction, and the big confrontation at the Kane household -- stressing that I had forgiven Duncan, winding up with last night's paternity revelation.

Wallace was stunned and angry and wanted Lamb's head. Mac simply asked, "Would you like me to dump him into the list of known sex offenders? Because I will if you want me to."

"Tempting. But no."

"I want to do something," she said. Wallace echoed the sentiments.

"And now we come to the favor I said I was going to ask you," I said. "I want you to be there when I tell my father."

"Why?" Wallace said.

"Because of the way you two just reacted. Now, how do you think my father's going to react?"

They got it. They were a little dubious about standing in his way -- Wallace used the phrase "cannon fodder" at least twice -- but eventually they agreed to help.

I then went into Cho's pizzeria, chatted up Hamilton Cho -- he didn't seem to think too highly of Sabrina -- and planted a tracer on his car. We'd see where he went.

We took the pizza and drove home.

By the time Dad got there, we were done eating. He was a bit surprised at the crowd, but said, "Logan. Wallace. Mac."

"Hi, Mr. Mars," they said more or less in unison.

"Taking the act on the road?" he asked.

"You know how it goes," Logan said. "First Neptune, then San Diego, then the world. And just think: You can say you knew them when."

"Ah, fame."

He went into the bathroom and I told everyone to get in their positions. When Dad got out I was sitting on the couch and told him I wanted to show him something.

"What is it, sweetheart?"

I showed him the DNA test results.

As he read them over I said, "What? You thought my finely honed deductive abilities were nurture? Uh-uh. Nature all the way!"

"Veronica," Dad said in his that disturbingly calm voice that indicated that he was a half-second away from exploding, "Why were you undergoing a paternity test with Jake Kane?"

"Funny story there, Dad . . ."


	40. Chapter 40

One mild use of language here that you might not hear on the show, but that absolutely seemed to fit.

Still in Kanes and Abels territory, but I only barely touch on the events of the episode.

A note to the reviewers and readers: I cannot believe how popular this fic has been. Thanks, thanks to all of you. For what it's worth, I do have a definite ending in mind for this thing. I'm not sure when I'm going to get there, but I will.

Disclaimer: I do not own Veronica Mars. Unfortunately for me.

X X X X X

"Somehow I doubt that, Veronica, but let me hear it." He looked at Mac, Wallace and Logan, "Alone."

"They already know, Dad. And that's why they're staying." Logan was right next to me. Wallace was in the kitchen. Mac was leaning against the front door.

"You told your friends before you told me?" I nodded. "This had better be the funniest story on the planet."

I took a deep breath. "It starts the night of Shelly Pomroy's party . . ."

And then I told him the story of my night, whole and almost unexpurgated. I left out my suspicions about Cassidy and Madison, any mention of Clarence Weidman, and that Logan had supplied at least part of the GHB for the evening. No need to confuse him any further.

"My God, Veronica," he said when I mentioned how I'd woken up. "If all that happened, why didn't you tell me?" When I'd gotten home the morning after the party, I'd told him I'd fallen asleep -- and that I had no idea who'd written the graffiti all over my car.

"That much," I said, "I've figured out now. It was Madison Sinclair."

"Nasty of her, but hardly the most important issue right now," Dad said. "And why didn't you tell me? Or go to the police?"

"I'll get to that," I said. "I promise. Just not right now." Then I told him about my investigation and ended just before Duncan's big revelation. I stressed that I was convinced that Duncan

"This is a lot to wrap my head around, Veronica," Dad said. "If you say you've forgiven Duncan --" I reassured him that I believed his story of the evening. Duncan Kane may be many things, but a convincing liar is not one of them. He hadn't even been able to come up with a half-assed cover story when he broke up with me; he just stopped seeing me altogether. "Then I won't have to go kill him."

"Please don't, Dad. You're in enough trouble with the Kane family already."

"This isn't funny, Veronica!" he yelled. "Not only did you get raped and not tell me about it -- I thought you trusted me with everything -- but none of this still explains why Jake Kane and you took a paternity test!"

"Which do you want first?" I asked.

"Why you took the paternity test."

"Because when I asked why Duncan was so upset at a night of what he thought was consensual sex between us, his response was, 'Because you're my sister!' And more or less right then is when Jake walked in. So, long story short, he suggested it for Duncan's peace of mind and I went along with it."

"And if the results had come back the other way? And said you were his daughter?"

"I wouldn't have considered myself related to him if the test had come back saying I was his clone," I said. "I'm a Mars, pure and simple. And nothing will or could _ever_ change that."

At last, a little grin. "Damn right it won't." The grin vanished. "And the other part?"

"Because the first and only person I told about my rape for the better part of a year -- until I confided in Logan -- was," deep breath, steady Veronica, "Don Lamb. I went straight to the police, like they always say, Dad. Only they don't say what to do when the policeman in question hates you and your family and laughs in your face when you make the accusation."

"Don Lamb," he said. "Laughed at you." Voice shaking, he said, "He has no right laughing at _anyone_ who says they were raped. _Anyone_! But at you --" he started to stand up. When I put my hand on his shoulder, he shrugged it off.

Then he walked towards the door. Logan got in his way. Wallace moved to stand behind him. Mac stayed by the door. "What do you think you're doing?" he asked.

"Stopping you from doing something incredibly stupid," I said. "I know you. You're about to go charging after Don Lamb."

"You're damn right I am," he said. "Logan, Wallace, move."

"Sorry, Mr. Mars," Wallace said.

"Not going anywhere, Keith," Logan said.

"Wallace, I will tell your mother about this."

"You go ahead and do that. I'm still not letting you past me."

"Logan--"

"My mother would be as likely to believe Veronica as you." Which was true.

"Mac --"

Mac laughed. "You don't even know my parents, Mr. Mars. They might believe you; you might get me in trouble with them. But I wouldn't move right now if you calling them would condemn me to a lifetime of never again so much as touching a computer."

"Why?"

"Because, if my Dad was about to do something that would screw up the rest of his life, and I asked Veronica to stop him, she would. I owe her the same. I'm not moving."

Dad turned to look at me -- "Veronica, I just want --"

"I know, Dad. I want to too."

"So do I," Logan said. "When Veronica told me, the first thing I wanted to do was go down to the Sheriff's Office, rip Lamb's office door off its hinges, and pound him into pieces so small Gil Grissom wouldn't be able to find them."

"Me too," Wallace said. At Logan's look, Wallace said, "You put it better than I could've."

"And you?" Dad asked Mac.

"I'm not violent, Mr. Mars," Mac said. "And even if I were there's no way I could take on a sheriff. This body --" she flexed -- "isn't built for feats of physical strength." After a pause, she added, "But if Veronica asked me to, I would sign him up for every book club I could find, cancel his credit cards, donate money in his name to the KKK, and put him on the 'known sexual predator list.' And that would be just the beginning. But she asked me not to. So I won't." Another pause. "I do, however, reserve the right to send him a subscription to _Chicks with Dicks_ at the Sheriff' Department address."

"Go to town," I said.

Dad looked at me again. "I see you've thought this through."

"I learned from the best," I said.

"Yeah, you did." A second later, "Okay, Veronica. You've made your point. I promise I will not go off half-cocked and rip Don Lamb the new asshole he so richly deserves." I could tell he meant it. "But, like Mac, I reserve the right to try to have him removed from office."

"As long as that's not 'through the window,' I'm fine."

"I am," he said, "Amazed and astonished at the lengths you went through to protect me."

I looked up at him and smiled. "That's what daughters do."

"I'm betting you even had a fallback plan in case I'd gone completely off the handle."

"Yup. Even if you had forced your way past Logan and Wallace, you would have been running all the way to the Sheriff's Office." I pulled something out of my pocket. "When you went to the bathroom, I swiped your keys."

He laughed. "That's my girl."

"That's right," I said. "I am your girl." I waved the paternity papers around. "Not like we needed these to prove it, but still --" I dropped the papers and hugged him, "Oh, Dad. I'm sorry I didn't tell you. Part of it was this -- and part of it was just not pile any more stuff on you than you already had."

"I get it," he said. "Really, I do. And I'm sorry you had to go through it alone."

I looked back at Logan, Mac and Wallace. "I think I'm starting to understand why alone isn't always the best way to handle things."

It had taken me the longest time to actually get it, but Meg had been right.

I had friends.

X X X X X

After everyone left -- yes, I forced another hug on Mac, who didn't actually seem too offended by the concept -- Dad said, "Actually, I had some news as well . . . of course, after what just happened, I think I could tell you that Rio de Janeiro had fallen into the Atlantic Ocean and it would be a bit of a comedown."

"Ooooh!" I said. "Did we win the lottery?"

"Sadly, no." He paused. "I had a visit from Clarence Weidman at the office today. You know -- the Head of Security for Kane Software."

"I believe I know the name," I said casually. Inside I was on the verge of collapse.

"Yeah, well, he came over and told me how Ms. DeLongpre was most disappointed that I hadn't informed her of her father's imminent demise."

Dad knew that Abel Koontz was dying? "And you . . ." I prompted.

"I apologized profusely, of course, and told him to convey my regrets to Ms. DeLongpre the next time he saw her. He glared at me for a couple more minutes and then he left." He grinned for a second. "We've got them, Veronica! If they're nervous enough that they're sending over their biggest gun, that means I'm onto something."

I said, "First, check your office for bugs."

He looked at me suspiciously. "Why would you say that?"

Because he bugged my room, Dad. Because that's how he's been blackmailing me to stay out of the investigation. And because Wallace, Logan and Mac aren't here, I can't tell you that right now. "Because that's what I'd do."

He nodded. "Fair enough. And second?"

"Second . . . are you _sure_ you have those copies of the settlement papers in secure places?"

"Yes, Veronica. Even if Clarence Weidman broke into my safe --" Broke into your safe? Dad, he broke into the Department of Homeland Security. I don't think one standard issue office safe is going to faze him -- "And took Cliff's copy --" I almost laughed at this. Cliff doesn't take special precautions. The only reason I handed him those spare tapes from Aaron Echolls' poolhouse was because I couldn't think of a better place to stash them -- and because I couldn't imagine anyone thinking to look there. "He'd never be able to find the other ones. Trust me, Veronica. I'm ahead of you on this one."

I hope so, Dad.

He took a deep breath. "Anyway," he said, "I'm going to go drop in on your mother. Would you like to come with me?"

"Yeah. Just give me a couple of minutes." At his inquisitive look, I said, "That person harassing Sabrina Fuller. I need to check something."

I checked the status of my tracking device -- so far, Hamilton had only left Cho's a couple of times, neither of them anywhere near Sabrina's direction, and neither really long enough to have done much mischief even if he had.

I took my cell and the device with me when we went to see Mom. I drove separately so I could go do some surveillance on Hamilton Cho once our visit with Mom was over.

She looked exactly the same as she had when I'd found her in that hotel room: pale, unconscious, barely breathing. The only differences were the machines hooked up to her and the lack of alcohol in the room.

I kissed Mom goodbye when I left.

She didn't notice.

I will find a way to punish Clarence Weidman for this. I have no idea how, but I will.


	41. Chapter 41

Note: Midterms and finals at my school were handled by rescheduling the classes during exam time: One class would take all morning, then the various lunch periods (during which those teachers let you study), then a second exam all afternoon. In the absence of any evidence to the contrary I'm assuming that's the way Neptune High handles it as well.

We finish off Kanes and Abels in this one.

Rob Thomas created Veronica Mars. I did not.

X X X X X

After I left the hospital, I went down to Cho's Pizza and watched Hamilton for the rest of the night. At some point Sabrina called and complained about a car alarm that kept going off and mysteriously stopped just before the police got there. I told her it couldn't be Hamilton and asked her to write it down. From her state of mind, I placed the odds at about 50-50 that she'd remember to do it.

I understood why she was so upset, but if she took it out on me once more I was going to tell her to take her other $400 and stick it where her academic achievements didn't shine.

Logan picked me up early for school the next day. When we got to the parking lot, I said, "I want to thank you for what you did last night." And I spent the next five minutes doing it.

After I got done and he was almost out of breath, he said, "Are you planning to thank Wallace and Mac too?"

"Not like that. Wallace would faint and I'm fairly sure Mac's as hetero as I am."

"I, on the other hand, would pay good money . . ."

I interrupted, "I don't care how you finish that sentence. If you finish it, you're a dead man."

"About Madison and Beaver . . ."

"This weekend," I said. "I want to get this Sabrina Fuller investigation -- and finals -- over with before I start something new."

"This weekend?" he said. "I had other plans for this weekend . . ."

Laughing, I said, "I bet you do. Don't worry. We can fit those plans in too."

We went our separate ways.

Sabrina caught up with me right before lunch and gave me the license plate number. "This morning I only had study hall," she said. "No one bothered me there so I was able to put in a couple of hours studying for my French exam this afternoon. But tomorrow's the last day of exams and if it's not fixed tonight --"

"I understand," I said.

Lunch was spent with Logan and Wallace and Mac -- and Duncan and Meg, too. Since I was giving this whole "friend" thing a try, I told them that I'd told my father everything that happened.

Duncan said, "Okay," and stood up.

"Where are you going?" Meg asked.

"Brazil," he said. "Maybe Cuba. Anywhere Keith Mars can't track me down."

"Sit down, idiot," I said. "Dad's angry all right, but -- while I can't call you his favorite person on the planet right now -- you're nowhere near the top of his list of 'people I have to kill in Neptune.' At most he'll give you a stern talking to and remind you of the hazards of premarital sex."

To Mac and Wallace I said, "I can't thank you guys enough for last night."

"That's what BFFs do, isn't it?" Wallace asked. "I'm fairly sure that came in the instruction manual."

And Mac said, "I fully expect that you would do the same for me if I asked. We're friends, Veronica. That means we do things like that for each other."

"So if my computer breaks down . . ."

"I'll still charge you," Mac said. "Hey, friendship is friendship, but I gotta make money somehow." Then she smiled. "But I will rocket your name to the top of the list."

Logan laughed. "So, MacKenzie, I think I've finally found something I can beat you at."

"What?" Mac said. "Video checkers? Pong?"

"Madden 2005."

"Give me a half hour to practice and I bet I'll still kick your butt from here to Cleveland and back again."

Duncan said, looking first at Mac and then Logan, "You're going to kick his butt at Madden?" Mac allowed as she would. "I don't think I've ever beaten him at that. And you think you'll do it after a half hour?"

"I've seen him play other games," Mac said. "How hard can it be?" Then, after a second, "But if you're so sure I can't do it . . ."

"$200 on Logan," Duncan said immediately.

Logan said, "Can you cover that, MacKenzie?"

"That and more, Echolls. How much you want to put down?"

"Another $200."

Meg, out of loyalty, put $50 on Logan herself. Wallace refused to bet. Smart man. "$100 on Mac," I said. Logan looked hurt. "Hey, it's like she said. I gotta make money somehow."

I walked with Mac back to class after lunch. "I appreciate the faith, Veronica . . ."

"Faith nothing," I said. "I recognize a hustle when I see one."

She laughed. "Yeah, but it's so much fun watching him try."

"He's never going to beat you, is he?"

"Not in this lifetime."

X X X X X

After work, I ran the license plate -- only to find out it belonged to Vinnie Van Lowe's ex-wife. One complex scam so I could plant a bug in his office later and I knew who'd done it. It had been Jim Cho, Hamilton Cho's father, who was trying to get his son the Kane scholarship he needed to get into Oxford.

I almost called everyone together for a big confrontation, but I'd had enough of them the last few days. So instead I dropped Sabrina off, promised her I'd take care of it, and went back to Cho's pizza.

"Veronica," Hamilton said, "Couldn't stay away from the pizza, huh?"

"Hamilton," I said, "Get your father out here. We all need to talk." When Hamilton said his father was busy, I added, "Tell him I talk to either him or Jessica Fuller."

Jim Cho was out ten seconds later. I moved over to the side of the store and they followed me.

"I know you paid off Vinnie Van Lowe to harass Sabrina Fuller," I said. "This stops now."

"Dad?" Hamilton asked. "Why?"

"Because you got that accepted to Oxford," Mr. Cho said, "And there was no way you were going to go without help. Sabrina Fuller doesn't deserve that scholarship. You do."

Hamilton sighed. "Dad, I appreciate what you were willing to do for me. And you're right; I do deserve it more than she does." After a second. "Still, I wish you hadn't gone and gotten yourself in trouble to do it."

"Well, now's your chance to prove it," I said. "That's part of two of this discussion. Sabrina Fuller has already been affected by Vinnie Van Lowe's campaign of harassment, putting your son in first place for the Kane Scholarship. What exams do you have tomorrow, Hamilton?"

"Last two. Calculus and AP World History."

"Tank one of them. Level the playing field. I'm not saying flunk; I'm saying get yourself a B-. Put Sabrina back on top where she was when this all started." When Mr. Cho began to protest, I said, "It's either that or I tell Clemmons, the Kanes, and Jessica Fuller."

"I'll do it, Dad," Hamilton said. "It's only fair. And this way you're not likely to end up in jail."

"I'll want to see proof," I said. "The grades on both of tomorrow's exams. Once I see them, the chance of me ever telling anyone what happened goes away."

They agreed. I told Sabrina the harassment would end as of tonight -- and that if it didn't, I would report the harasser to her mother, the police, and 'all other interested parties.'

"We'll see, Veronica," she said. "If it plays out the way you say, then you'll get the rest of your $400 tomorrow after school."

It did; I did; and the next Monday, Hamilton Cho showed me the 85 he'd gotten on his calculus exam, putting Sabrina back in the pole position by percentage points. Also by that point, Logan had long since sullenly handed me the $100 I won betting on Mac. "Handed you your head again, didn't she?"

"Shut up."

Anyway, I'm getting ahead of myself.

The weekend itself was far from uneventful.

X X X X X

"Hi, Mrs. Sinclair?" I said brightly. "This is Vanessa -- that's right, Vanessa Mencken. I was supposed to meet Madison somewhere and, silly me, I forgot, Could you -- oh, thanks. Sorry about that. I can be such a bimbo sometimes. Bye now!" I turned to look at Logan, Duncan and Meg, who were nearly doubled over in laughter. Wallace was spending some quality time with his mom and Mac was spending some "quality" time at a southern cooking festival.

Not that I have anything against southern cooking. But I'm fairly sure Mac is not looking forward to a day spent around fried chicken and lard-laced biscuits with people urging her to "have a taste."

"So, Machiavelli, where is she?"

"Spending the day on the beach."

"There's a whole lot of beach around here," Duncan said. "Are we just gonna walk up and down until we find the right one?"

"No; she told me more or less where. You know where you beat up my car, Logan?"

"Isn't there a statute of limitations on that?"

I shook my head. "Uh-uh. I get to hold it over your head for the rest of your life."

"Then I get to keep mentioning the penis-shaped bong."

Meg and Duncan laughed. "That was you, Veronica?" Meg asked. I allowed as it was.

"She made you look bad, man," Duncan said.

As we all piled into Logan's X-Terra to head out to the beach, Logan turned to Duncan and said, "So wait. I trash her car and I come out looking bad; she plants a bong in my locker and I come out looking bad. Do I ever get to be on top?"

After a second, Logan realized what he'd said. "Just forget I said anything," he muttered.

In between laughs, Duncan said, "To answer the question you thought you were asking: No. And you never will. The sooner you learn to accept that, the happier you'll be."

It only took us about five minutes once we got there to find Madison -- lying down and sunning herself in a white leather bikini.

I told Logan to go run Meg back to get something; Duncan and I stood there and waited, trying to look inconspicuous. Madison was so oblivious, though, I think Duncan and I could have been naked and firing off AK-47s and she wouldn't have noticed.

I moved so I was blocking her sun.

"Move it, idiot," she mumbled.

"It's funny, you know," I said. "I thought your kind burst into flames in direct sunlight."

She looked up at me. "Veronica Mars." She twisted around so that she could see Duncan, Logan, and Meg. "And I see you brought your entire gang. 'So, tasering me wasn't enough, now you want to beat me up?"

"Fair enough payback for writing the word 'slut' on my car at Shelly Pomroy's party," I said.

"God, Veronica, that was like a year and a half ago. Get over it already."

"God, Madison, that tasering was like a month and a half ago. Get over it already."

"So if you're not going to beat me up, why _did_ you come over here?"

"Just wanted to ask you a couple of questions. And they're about Shelly Pomroy's party, amazingly enough."

"I'm not going to help you with anything," Madison said.

I leaned down and yanked her bikini top out from under her. "Oh, I think you are."

"You think I'm afraid of flashing all of you?"

Logan said, "No, but I think you're afraid of flashing the whole school." And Meg pulled her camera out and waved.

As Madison opened her mouth, I said, "You say I wouldn't, I say I would, you call me a nasty name, I come up with a devastatingly witty retort, and then you grumpily agree to answer my questions. So let's just cut through all of that, okay? Now, at Shelly Pomroy's party: Why did you drug me?"

"You are deranged. I didn't drug you."

"We've already moved past the point of 'I didn't do it,' Madison, and are now firmly into 'why did you do it?' Try to keep up. Someone handed me a drink at that party. That drink was laced with GHB. As a consequence, I ended up doing a lot of really stupid things. As near as I can tell, the only person who had a reason to make me look stupid and the opportunity is you. So again. Why."

"I didn't --"

I handed the bikini top to Duncan. "Duncan, take this to the car, please."

"Happy to," Duncan said, and started to walk away.

"I swear to God, Veronica, I didn't drug the drink I gave you. Dick gave me a Coke -- I was on Atkins so I handed it to you but gave you a trip to the dentist first. That is all I did."

At my puzzled look, Meg said, "That means she spit in the cup."

Yecch. I think I was getting it now. "Dick had two doses of GHB. He tried to give one to you but forgot you were on this no-carb kick. So you passed it on to me, guaranteeing me a night I'll never remember. I'd like to thank you for that."

"Why are you blaming me? Dick was the one who put the drugs in the Coke."

"And he meant it for you, princess," Logan said. "Remember that."

I gestured to Duncan to toss Madison back her bikini top. He did, throwing it a little high. Instinctively Madison reached up for it and Meg snapped a picture. "Just a little insurance," Meg said. "You understand."

Madison tied her top back on, packed up her stuff, and stormed off the beach.

"You know, Machiavelli," Logan said, "I think we made her mad."

Meanwhile, Meg was giggling. "That was so much fun!" she said. "I want to be like you when I grow up, Veronica. I want to be able to intimidate older people and rescue those who need to be rescued." The giggling stopped as she completed the sentence. There was something behind her words, but I wasn't entirely sure what.

"So," Duncan said. "The mystery of who drugged you has now been solved. Anything on the agenda for tomorrow?"

To Duncan and Meg's confusion, I said "The mystery of why Beaver Casablancas said he threw up on Carrie Bishop's shoes . . ."


	42. Chapter 42

This is an exceptionally long chapter. I felt it needed to be.

Edited to correct an accidental upload of a rough draft.

Disclaimer: Veronica Mars is owned by someone who isn't me.

X X X X X

"So, Mars, any plans between now and then?" Logan asked after we dropped off Meg and Duncan.

"Yes," I said solemnly. "I thought I'd go retire to my home for some quiet contemplation and prayer."

"Really?"

"Well, I do plan on saying, 'Oh God,' a lot . . ."

"And your father won't kill me because . . ."

"Because right now my father is in Los Angeles taking care of two things at once. Your Mom wanted a report – shouldn't her shooting be done by now?"

"Just sticking around for any reshoots. Plus Matt Roush of _TV Guide_ wants to interview her on her 'big comeback.' She should be home tomorrow."

"Alright," I said. "Plus there's a bail jumper up there he's going to try to track down."

"So that's at least 24 hours we have to ourselves?"

"Mmm-hmmm. Now let's go make Jack Bauer look like a slacker."

Logan pressed down on the accelerator.

Despite our braggadocio, and hormones, we did not in fact spend the entirety of the next 24 hours in bed.

Part of it we spent on the couch, and in the tub, and the living room floor, and . . .

Okay. I'm sure you don't want to hear all of that.

At one point, I brought up Mac's continued domination of him at all things video and computer-game related.

"Just had to bring the mood down, didn't you, Mars?" But he didn't seem too angry.

"Are you going to keep trying?"

"Of course."

"Oooh, goody. I could use the extra money."

"Your faith in me is touching."

X X X X X

The next morning, after Meg was done with church, Logan, Duncan, Mac and I met at the Echolls estate to plan our get-Beaver-Casablancas strategy.

Mac was shoveling in bagels like she hadn't seen food in a month. "I had almost nothing to eat yesterday," she said grumpily. "They even put bits of pork fat in the vegetables. If I hadn't found a vending machine selling Twizzlers I wouldn't have had anything to eat at all."

"I'm fairly sure not all Southern cuisine is lard-based," Meg said.

"I wasn't going to take that chance."

"So," Logan said, "Do we know where Beaver is today?"

"Actually, yes," Duncan said.

I raised my eyebrows. "And you know this how?"

"Through my brilliant investigative skills."

"Duncan . . ."

He laughed. "Pure luck. They're having a charity fundraiser at the Casablancas house for some small animal or other."

Logan and I said in unison, "The lesser spotted monarch shrimp!" and started laughing. Then I said, "And you know the brothers Casablancas will be there because . . ."

"Because Big Dick always insists his sons show up at events like this," Logan said. "Makes him look like a family man even though he's rapidly working his way through wife number two." After a second, "Even if those two boys are facing trial for false imprisonment."

"Okay, that's the easy part. Now the hard part . . . how exactly do we get in? "

"Why would we want to?" Logan said. "Let's wait until school tomorrow. Confronting Beaver on neutral territory is one thing; invading the Casablancas estate is something else entirely. Besides, the only one of us the Casablancases wouldn't hate on sight is Mac. Meg they might give the time of day to, but that's about it. Duncan beat the crap out of both boys and I'm sure whatever security guards they've hired have orders to shoot to kill if either Veronica or I come within 100 yards of the place."

"But –"

"But nothing, Veronica," Mac said. "Logan's right. And even I could talk my way onto the estate it's not like I would be able to interrogate them. Intimidating, I'm not."

I sighed. "Okay. But we still need a plan."

And so we spent a couple of hours devising one. Logan was all for "drag him into a back room and beat him until he tells us what we want to know," but I was afraid that might bring us, you know, legal charges. "Although I'm keeping it open as a plan B."

We did use the "Drag him into a back room" part, though.

Finally we came up with something involving all five of us. Hey, if Wallace wanted to be involved, he should have been there.

Then, Logan having had enough of having the crap kicked out of him for one day, we spent the next few hours playing hold 'em.

When the final hand rolled around, Meg's pair of nines beat Mac's king-queen suited. As Meg gathered up her money, Logan looked at Mac and said, "Finally found something you weren't perfect at."

"I still outlasted you, Echolls," Mac said. "Far as I'm concerned that's all that matters."

Lynn Echolls walked in right about then. "Well, hello!" She said. "Veronica. Duncan. Meg. And . . . have we met?"

"I don't think so. I'm Mac."

Lynn said, "Oh, _you're_ the one my son keeps cursing the name of every time we talk."

Mac looked at Logan. "Cursing my name?"

"Hello, mother," Logan said, ignoring Mac. "How did everything go?"

Grinning widely, Lynn said, "Oh, _wonderfully_. It was just like riding a bicycle."

"So your back and feet hurt and you got tired after ten minutes?" I asked.

Lynn laughed. "Something like that. No, the people on _The Closer_ were wonderful and I think it should be enough to get me a few more jobs. And the interview went very nicely. I don't think Trina will like it, though."

"Trashed Daddy Dearest?" Logan asked.

"With every word," Lynn said. Her tone may have been joking, but there was a definite serious undertone.

Logan smiled grimly. "Good."

Apparently realizing that what she said had confused everyone in the room except Logan and me, Lynn clapped her hands and said, "Well! Sorry, didn't mean to bring down the mood! You folks go on with whatever you were doing."

And since we were more or less done, that's when things broke up. Logan drove me home, gave me a long kiss goodbye – "For the next time our parents are out of town at the same time," he murmured as he left, leaving me weak in the knees and hopeful that Dad would get called to track down someone in Australia sometime soon.

As long as he didn't fly there via Transoceanic.

X X X X X

Speaking of people Dad was tracking down, the bailjumper in LA had been a complete non-starter. "Ten other people were on his trail," he said. "I wouldn't have had a chance unless I'd been Superman."

"You mean you're not?" I said with a mock pout. "Go ahead and crush a little girl's dreams."

"Sorry, honey, if you want to learn to fly you're going to have to take piloting lessons like everyone else."

"At least I don't have to worry about kryptonite."

"That's the spirit. Always look on the bright side."

"Was Lynn happy with your work so far in getting Abel Koontz cleared?"

"Ecstatic," Dad said. "She kicked in a $500 bonus."

"Always a plus."

"So, time for some Daddy-daughter time."

"Oooh! I hope you're the daddy!"

"I think that can be arranged." From his briefcase he produced a DVD set.

"Buffy season 6!" I know a lot of Buffy fans didn't like season 6. Chalk me up as a contrarian. I could give you my arguments if you gave me half an hour.

"And pizza, whatever you like."

"Can we order from Cho's Pizza?" I was planning to throw them as much business as I could.

And we watched the first four episodes (I tried to get him to skip right to _Once More, With Feeling_, but Dad has this absurd rule that you have to watch a show in order), chowed down on a large Cho's with mushrooms and pepperoni, and did not for one second of those four episodes think about Aaron Echolls or Beaver Casablancas.

X X X X X

By next morning, we were ready. Mac and Meg had worked on their part of it after the poker game broke up yesterday. "It's all set, Veronica," Mac said.

"Good," I said. "Now, I want the two of you well away from this."

"I'll be in my car," Mac said. "Don't worry. That's well within range."

"Good. Meg?"

"I have some work to do for the TV station."

"Good. And thanks."

At lunch, I filled Wallace in on what was going on. He was kind of bummed that he didn't get to be part of it.

"Sorry, Wallace," I said. "But I promise, the next time we get ready to brutally interrogate someone, you'll be the first person I call." I grinned. "In the meantime, plausible deniability. And don't you have basketball practice anyway?"

"Yeah. But for this, I think I'd skip it."

"I know you would," I said. "And I appreciate it." I thought a second. "Actually, there is something you can do."

As school ended, Duncan and Logan swooped in on either side of Beaver Casablancas and once again guided him into my restroom "office." My bag was lying on the sink and the stall doors were all wide open.

"Hi," I said. "I have a few more questions for you."

Looking nervous and innocent, Beaver said, "I promise you, Veronica, I've already told you everything I remember about that party."

I sighed. "Beaver, Beaver, Beaver."

"I prefer Cassidy."

"I know, Beaver," I said pointedly. "You know, you're really quite an accomplished liar."

"I don't know what you mean," he said a bit wildly.

"Of course you do," I said. "First, a couple of days after we get you and Dick arrested for false imprisonment, you feed me a line about how Logan told both of you to give him an alibi; how he was really in Neptune the day Lilly Kane was killed." I was taking a calculated risk here.

Duncan started paying close attention. "It wasn't a line, Veronica," Beaver said.

"Uh-huh," I said. "You had to know I'd do some checking up on that."

"You actually investigated?" Logan said, sounding hurt.

"Of course I did. I thought it was complete crap and _imagine my surprise_," I said, glaring at Beaver, "When that turned out to be exactly what it was. There was no proof; no evidence; none of that. So obviously, you lied."

"What does this have to do with Shelly Pomroy's party?" Beaver demanded.

"I'm getting to that. Then, when I asked you about Shelly Pomroy's party, you said Dick and Sean had put you in the room with me and left you on the bed, and that you had run outside and thrown up on Carrie Bishop's shoes."

"Yeah,"

"Funny story," I said. "Carrie Bishop doesn't remember it that way. She remembers you walking out confidently past her. You weren't running; you didn't bend over. And you certainly didn't vomit on her _brand new shoes_."

"Maybe it was Vanessa Mencken's shoes," he said. "It was a year and a half ago, after all."

"But you seemed . . . so certain it was Carrie," I said. "So, tell me, _Beaver_: What could you have done in that bedroom that would have had walking out proudly and then lying to me about it fifteen months later?"

He looked over at Duncan and Logan. "I'm not telling you with them in the room."

"We're not going anywhere," Logan said.

Duncan said, "Speak for yourself. I didn't know anything about this damn alibi of yours." He looked at me. "I can't believe you lied about that, Veronica. I'm out of here." And he turned and walked out.

"I'm sorry, Veronica," Logan said. "I have to be sure he doesn't go do something stupid."

That left me alone with Beaver in the room.

"Dump out your bag," he said.

"What?"

"I said, dump out your bag. Dump out your bag and I'll answer your question."

I sighed and emptied the bag's contents onto the floor. I picked up the taser before he could get to it. "Uh-uh," I said. "I don't want you getting any ideas."

He looked through the bag and found the camera. "Just what I thought." He threw the camera down on the floor. "I'm not stupid, Veronica," he said.

"I never thought you were, Beaver," I said, sounding defeated.

"The name is Cassidy!" he yelled.

"Fine. Cassidy. Well, the camera's broken and the witnesses are gone. It's just us and these four walls. Now. What did you do?"

"What do you think I did, Veronica?"

"You tell me," I hissed.

"I had sex with you while you were unconscious," he said.

"I think that's called rape."

"Technically, yes. But it's not my fault, really. Dick and Sean were egging me on and I had to prove them wrong." Then he said, "I'm actually sorry I caused you all this grief. I never disliked you. Until you got me arrested." The son of a bitch was still trying to get me to feel sorry for him. Unbelievable.

"I got you arrested?" I said. "You got you arrested by kidnapping Logan. And don't tell me how it was all Dick's idea to do it, either. You went along with it."

"It was something to do," he said. "It _was_ Dick's idea to shanghai him to Mexico, though."

"And that doesn't change the fact that you _raped _me!" I said, starting to cry.

"I suppose it doesn't," he said. "For what it's worth, I really am sorry about that." Then he said, "And if you tell anyone about this -- even your boyfriend -- I'll have my lawyer sue you for slander. We'll see how well that case for false imprisonment holds up then." Then he turned around and stormed out.

I stopped crying immediately. A useful ability, to be able to turn the waterworks on and off at will. Not that the tears weren't real hearing this confirmation that Beaver had raped me.

But any real crying would have to wait until later. Until this was all over. And it wouldn't be over until tomorrow.

Then I went to pick up the busted camera and the rest of the contents of my bag.

Then I went into the stall and took out the _real_ camera and microphone, hidden comfortably inside the toilet.

Honestly, the more I'd been thinking about it the more I'd been expecting this revelation. Beaver had been trying to make himself look nauseated and upset by what he'd been asked to do. But he wouldn't have done that just to play with my head -- and he would have had no idea that Carrie Bishop would have remembered a detail like that. So I'd been sure he'd done something inside that bedroom he didn't want me knowing about.

I called Mac. "Did it work?" I asked.

"Perfectly," she said, shaking with rage. "I have everything here on my laptop. I can't believe I ever thought he was cute."

"Don't blame yourself," I said. "A lot of people bought his act. But then, he bought ours, too."

"I'll get right to work on converting it," she said. "The sound quality's a bit rough but by Meg and I are done it'll be audible."

I went across the hall, where Duncan and Logan were waiting.

What? You bought their act too?

I'd told Duncan about the Casablancas' "phony" accusation yesterday. Duncan hadn't believed a word of it, thank goodness -- he'd already seen how vindictive the Casablancas brothers could be. And Logan knew damn well I'd never investigated him.

Now it was Mac's turn. And then Meg's.

X X X X X

During the next morning's Neptune High news broadcast, Meg said, "And now we take you to the interview I did last night with Neptune High basketball star Wallace Fennel."

And this is what I'd found for Wallace to do. See, we needed someone who wouldn't complain when --

The program was suddenly interrupted. Everyone looked up. The last time this had happened, someone had announced they'd kidnapped Polly.

You could clearly see Beaver, and partially see me.

"What do you think I did, Veronica?" came Beaver's voice.

"You tell me," I said in response.

"I had sex with you while you were unconscious." Beaver said again. Around the room, everyone gasped; everyone around the school did, I think, except for me, Mac, Wallace, Meg, Logan, and Duncan.

"I think that's called rape."

"Technically, yes."

That's as far as the tape got; but that's as far as it needed to go.

Beaver, I hear, ran from the school the minute he heard the words "You tell me." Weevil Navarro, I understand, was on his feet five seconds later. He and Clemmons practically collided, Clemmons running towards me, Weevil in the other direction.

Somehow Beaver made it off school grounds. How, I have no idea.

Clemmons came into my classroom and said, "Veronica, my office, now!" In the meantime, the teacher in charge of the morning news broadcasts had confiscated the tape.

No matter. Mac had made a couple of dozen copies of the relevant parts, which started with Beaver's command for me to dump out my bag.

Clemmons was torn between sympathy and anger. In the end, I didn't get in any trouble because of what I'd gone through, and no one else did either because no one could prove anyone else had anything to do with it.

Don Lamb showed up, called by Clemmons, apparently. I showed him the tape.

When it was done, he issued an immediate warrant for the arrest of Cassidy Casablancas on the charge of rape.

When Lamb put down the phone, he looked at me to see what I said next.

I satisfied myself with three words.

"Told you so."


	43. Chapter 43

Pre-"Weapons of Class Destruction." And thanks once again to DarlingVioleta777 for catching my mistake in part 42.

Disclaimer: I do, in fact, own Veronica Mars. And a billion dollars. And a cat named Carrie.

Okay, I'm not lying about the cat.

X X X X X

I'd also given Lamb a statement about what had happened, both at the party and yesterday after school. . While he looked like he would rather be juggling chainsaws, he didn't make any wiseass comments. I'm not sure whether that was because Clemmons was in the room with us or because he knew I had the moral high ground, but I was grateful either way.

After I'd told him "told you so," he left without another word.

Clemmons looked at me after the sheriff's departure. "You . . . told him about this when it happened and he did nothing?" I nodded. "The next election he could be running against a beached whale and I'd vote for the whale."

"Thanks, Mr. Clemmons."

"That's just bad behavior. There are a lot of students at this school I don't personally like, Veronica. The minute I let that interfere with my job, I'm a bad administrator. And not a particularly good human being."

Clemmons had also called Dad, who came to school to pick me up. Of course, I was going home early. No one argued the point.

We got inside and Dad hugged me.

And then, and only then, did I let myself cry.

I have no idea when I stopped.

But I know he was still there when I did.

That's what daddies do.

X X X X X

Logan called during lunchtime. "You okay?"

"I think so," I said. "Came home and cried for a couple of hours."

"You amaze me, Mars. How did you hold it together that long?"

"Sheer willpower," I said. "I had something I had to do and I was. Not. Going to give anyone else the satisfaction of watching me have a complete breakdown in public."

"They'd have understood, Veronica."

"They weren't entitled to it," I said. "You. Dad. Wallace. That's it. All the crap that place and those people have put me through in the last year and a half. They don't get to see me cry."

"I think I get that," he said. "By the way. Not only is Beaver missing from school, so's Weevil."

"Clemmons told me crashed into him on his way to collect me from the classroom," I said.

"Well, apparently as soon as he heard Beaver confirmed he raped you, he ran out of his class swearing he was going to "kill that Casablancas bitch if he ever caught him."

"That's sweet."

"That's sweet?"

"For Weevil, that's sweet." I frowned. "I hope he doesn't actually catch him, though. I'd hate have Weevil in jail for the next twenty years."

"Two words, Mars: Justifiable homicide. I'll be by after school, but I want to go home and fill in mother dear on what's happened. I think she'll appreciate the full story." Then he stopped. "Here, Fennel has something to say."

"You holding up okay?"

"Yeah. Thanks."

Then he laughed. "Man, if you thought Dick Casablancas was isolated before, that's nothing compared to now. People are treating him like he hadn't showered in a month."

I had no sympathy. "He brought it on himself," I said. "He might not have shot the gun, but he bought it, loaded it, and aimed it at me."

"Yes, he did." After a second: "You need anything?"

"Anyone of the six people at that school who cared about me before all of this happened can drop by after it's over."

"I'm getting your homework for you."

"Your invitation is rescinded."

X X X X X

I spent the rest of the day watching more Season 6 _Buffy_. I practically had to shove Dad out of the apartment and tell him to go get some work done. He didn't criticize me once for the risk I'd put myself in getting Beaver to confess. That's how worried he was.

Meg called the second school let out. "We did it!" she said excitedly.

"Yeah. Thanks to you. How did you get out of getting in trouble?"

"Gosh, I have no idea what happened," she said. "Someone must have swiped it when my back was turned. I hope Mr. Fennel can forgive me."

"You are unbelievable, Meg. No one ever wants to believe you'd do anything wrong. People could find you over a corpse holding a bloody knife, with your DNA all over the body and a tape showing you stabbing the person, and they'd assume someone was trying to frame you."

"I must use these powers only for good." Okay, now I knew I was rubbing off on her.

"So far, you're off to a great start."

I could practically hear her grin. "Thanks. Look, Duncan and I won't be able to come by; we're having dinner at the Kanes' tonight and I need to get ready. I just wanted to be sure you were okay."

"Yeah. Thanks to all of you."

Then she passed the phone to Duncan. "Nice acting job yesterday," I said.

"I'm just glad you gave me the warning," he said. "I know Logan wouldn't have done anything to Lilly, but hearing it cold for the first time yesterday might have thrown me for a while."

"I didn't want anything to go wrong," I said.

"Boy, he really did have everyone fooled, didn't he?" Duncan said. "Dick may have his problems, but he's at least he's openly an asshole. Cassidy, though –"

"Yeah. Anyway, thanks. Duncan. This whole 'friend' thing seems to be working well so far."

"Yeah, it does. Glad you're doing okay."

Mac didn't bother calling; she just dropped by.

"Hey," she said.

"Hey. Are you doing okay?"

"I should be asking you that," she said.

"I'll be fine," I said. "Or I will be. I kind of guessed it was coming so I was able to . . . brace myself."

"Why didn't you tell me so I could?" she said.

"Because it was a guess," I said gently. "It's why I asked how you were." Mac was the only one besides Beaver and I who'd seen everything that happened while it was happening.

"It's just," she said, "you read all about this kind of thing and you think, well, I don't know anyone like that. And then not only do I, it's someone I thought was cute and who in no way, shape, or form, resembles the monster he really is." She looked up, and now tears were forming in her eyes. "I mean, Madison Sinclair and Vanessa Mencken and all of that – they're not even in this league."

"They're not even playing the same sport," I said. And I believed it. I may have no use for Madison Sinclair, but her idea of an evil plot was spitting in my drink. "You can't tell me you didn't know evil existed."

"There's knowing, and there's knowing knowing," she said. "This is knowing knowing." After a second, "I think I've just put my finger on why I'm the sidekick."

"If you can quote Buffy, you can watch Buffy," I said. "I've got _Once More With Feeling_ ready to go. You in?"

"The last good episode of season six," she said. "Okay."

I grinned. "I actually have a theory about season six . . ."

X X X X X

Half an hour later, I hadn't yet started the DVD player. That's because Mac and I were too busy screaming at each other about season six.

While Mac was detailing how badly Amber Benson'd been written off – she wasn't going to get an argument from me, there – there was an impatient knock at the door.

I opened it. Weevil stood there, rocking back and forth, like he was waiting for someone to tell him to run somewhere and he wanted to be ready the moment they did.

"I couldn't find him," he said. "I've been lookin' all day for that _pendejo_ and I haven't been able to track him down." He slammed his right fist into his left palm. "Why didn't you tell me about this, V?"

"Because I wanted him to confess without the prospect of you beating him into a bloody smear on the pavement," I said. Then, "You've been looking all day?"

"Everywhere I could think a scared rich boy might run," he said. "He didn't go home and he ain't likely to, not with a couple of deputies parked by his front door. He ain't at the Grand or at the beach, either."

"Beaver's smart enough not to hide anywhere obvious," I said. "Anyway, I'm kind of glad you didn't find him." I smiled. "Though I appreciate the sentiment."

"What sentiment?" he asked. "And why'd you be glad about that?"

"Last one first. Because I don't want you spending 15-30 upstate. And the sentiment that made you go try to kill someone who'd raped me." I leaned in closer. "But don't worry. Your secret's safe with me."

"Better be," he said. "Now, you doing alright?"

"Yeah," I pointed to Mac. "Got another friend here and I'm pretty much all cried out for the moment."

"Good to hear. Now. I'm going to go keep trying to find this kid. But just for you, if I do, most I'll do is hit him a few . . . dozen . . . times. There'll be enough left of the body to stand trial."

I said as he turned to go, "Weevil –"

"Yeah?"

"I _do_ appreciate it."

He smiled. "Anytime, V." Then he left.

Logan came in before I closed the door. "Weevil didn't have any luck?" I shook my head no. "I'm not surprised. I'll bet Beaver hasn't stopped running yet."

Then Wallace followed him in and said, "With Weevil Navarro after him? Not if he's smart, he hasn't. He's probably all the way to Mexico by now."

That was something I hadn't thought of. What if Beaver got away? He's smart enough; he probably had some money stashed away, though I doubt he'd've thought he'd've ended up using it for something like this. "Mexico wouldn't stop Weevil," I said.

"I can imagine not. Hey there, MacKenzie."

"Echolls."

"So," Logan said, rubbing his hands together gleefully. "What next? Any bank robbers we can track down?"

"Slow down, Briscoe," I said. "What's next, I hope, is a couple of days off. Think about what we've done in the last week, with Duncan, With Beaver. With all of that. I'm looking forward now to a day or two without doing a whole hell of a lot . . ." I looked at Logan and winked. "At least, not that we don't want to do."

Mac stood up and grabbed Wallace's arm. "That was our cue."

"Our cue? I just got here. And he drove me."

"I'll drive you back," Mac said. "Talk to you later, Veronica, and bye."

"Smart woman," Logan said after Mac and Wallace were gone.

"Understatement of the year," I murmured, and kissed him.

"You do realize we can't actually do anything too outrageous," Logan said, killing the mood.

"Ah yes," I said, taking off his jacket, "But that's what makes it exciting. The danger." I kissed him again.

When he pulled free, he said, "I live for danger," and kissed me on my neck.

"That's my boy."

Logan was pulling his pants back on when Dad started to open the door. He scrambled for the bathroom while I jumped onto the couch to finish buttoning up my blouse. I flipped the TV on as I heard Dad say, "Hi, sweetie."

I looked up. "Hi, Dad."

"Finding Barney fascinating?"

"Huh?"

"The TV."

I turned around. Sure enough, the annoying purple dinosaur was singing a song about friendship. "Oh, you mean this isn't a documentary? Oh, poo." I flipped the channel to a _Seinfeld_ rerun.

"Uh-huh," he said. "Hi, Logan," Dad said to Logan, who was exiting the bathroom to the sound of a flushing toilet.

"Mr. Mars," Logan said. "I thought it best for Veronica not to be alone."

"I understand, and thank you. So, want to stick around for dinner? I've going to make my famous lasagna."

Logan looked at me. "He's exaggerating. It's not famous. But it is poised for stardom."

"Sounds good to me," Logan said.

Fifteen minutes later I received a call from Meg. "Put on the news. Channel 12."

I flipped the channel and saw Don Lamb standing in front of a podium. "At approximately 4:55 PM this afternoon," he said. "The Sheriff's department received a call from Marty Obenauer, who runs a limousine service here in Neptune. He told us that he had been hired a couple of hours previously just to drive around, until at around quarter to five the person who hired him told him to stop on the Coronado bridge. Mr. Obenauer did so. When he did, the occupant handed him a note, gave him $1,000 in cash, and before Mr. Obenauer could do anything, he jumped." Deputy Leo came up to whisper something in Lamb's ear. "And the identity of the jumper has now been confirmed. It was 16-year old Cassidy Casablancas. who was a suspect in both a false imprisonment case and a rape case."

Dad and Logan and I looked at each other, unable to say a word.

Lamb was taking questions. "What did the note say?"

"Four words only," Lamb said. 'My name is Cassidy.'"


	44. Chapter 44

Author's note afterwards. But thanks to ziebra, Drtaylor and especially MirethGuilbain for clarifying my thinking on this part.

Disclaimer: Rob Thomas owns every major character in this story except for Vanessa Mencken. I own whatever parts of the plot are original.

X X X X X

It wasn't five minutes later that the phone started ringing.

Some smart reporter had heard about the morning's stunt, broadcasting Beaver's confession to the entire school, put it together with the suicide, and wanted to know what I had to say about it.

The answer, of course, was 'nothing.'

Thirty seconds after we hung up on that guy, someone else called. This one said he was from a San Diego newspaper and wanted "just five minutes of my time."

He got fifteen seconds, ten of which were Dad cussing him out.

After the fourth such call we left the phone off the hook. Anyone who really wanted to reach me or Dad could do so on our cell phones.

Wallace called, asking if we'd heard the news. Then Weevil, apologizing – apologizing! – for not having tracked Beaver down sooner.

When, half an hour later, the first one knocked on the door – Backup growled – we realized we were in the middle of something bigger than we'd thought.

Dad tried calling Lamb to ask for help; Lamb's reply was on the order of "We have more important things to do right now."

Logan wasted no time. He called his mother while I called Weevil back. In what must have been the most unlikely alliance in the last hundred years, we got them to work together.

In between hurriedly packing, we gulped down the lasagna.

Half an hour later, a dozen PCH'ers came roaring into the parking lot, followed by Lynn Echolls in her red convertible. While the PCH'ers cleared the reporters out of the way, Lynn got all of us out to our cars.

Backup jumped in my backseat. Then Lynn tossed Weevil a wad of cash – I was sure Weevil personally would have done this for free, but the rest of the PCH'ers weren't quite as benevolent – and as Dad, Lynn, Logan and I took off, in that order, the motorcycle gang moved to block them into our apartment building parking lot.

Weevil followed us to the estate in case any of the reporters had gotten the bright idea to phone ahead once they were prevented from chasing after us. There weren't. Lynn swung the gates open and she, Dad, and Logan drove inside.

I stopped to thank Weevil for everything he'd done. "I wish I could've done more," he said. "Now all this crap's going down. Tell you what, though: I see one of these reporters at school tomorrow they're going to wish they hadn't seen me." After a second. "What, you're not going to tell me not to?"

"I'm spending the night away from home in a gated estate because Beaver Casablancas raped me and was too much of a coward to face up to what he did," I said. Did part of me feel sorry for Cassidy?

He'd never been his own person. His suicide note, all of four words, made that clear. His name was Cassidy, he insisted. Not Beaver like everyone said. Cassidy.

Like I said earlier, Dick bought the gun, loaded the gun, and aimed the gun, and all Beaver had to do was pull the trigger. Would he have raped me if he hadn't been egged on?

Probably not.

But he did pull the trigger.

He could have _actually_ come running out of that bedroom, instead of only pretending he did. He could have told Dick to go take a flying leap. He could have refused to answer to "Beaver." He could have sounded even somewhat apologetic about what he'd done.

Instead, he mostly tried to excuse himself. And now he got to get away with it. He was dead.

So do I feel sorry for Beaver Casablancas? Not in the least. But I do feel sorry for the Cassidy Casablancas who could have existed. Even though much of the reason he didn't was his own fault.

I kept saying to Weevil, "As long as you don't actually kill the reporters I don't care what you do. And Weevil –"

"Yeah?"

"There are six people who've stood by me. You're one of them. I've said it before but I'm saying it again. Thank you."

He smiled, and for once it wasn't a cocky smile or the smile of someone who was about to engage in some quality violence. "Anytime, V. I got your back." Then he leaned in. "Just don't tell my boys. They think I been doin' this all day for the money Mrs. Echolls just threw me."

"Your secret's safe with me," I said.

Then I went inside and the gate swung shut behind me.

"So where are we all going to sleep?" Dad asked once we were all inside.

"Veronica can sleep in –"

Dad interrupted him, "If you finish that sentence with the two words I think you're about to finish that sentence with –"

"Trina's old bedroom." He was the very picture of wounded innocence. "What did you think I was going to say, Mr. Mars?"

The look on Dad's face made it clear he wasn't buying it, not for a second.

"Logan," Lynn said, "Don't tease our guests."

"Yes, Mother,"

Then Lynn looked at Backup, who was sitting there alertly. This was an unfamiliar situation for him; while this didn't make him nervous, it put him in a mood to be ready for action. "Chill. Backup," I said. Backup lay down. Then, to Lynn, I said, "Don't worry about Backup. He's probably better-behaved than I am."

"Try to hold him to a higher standard than that," Logan said. I stuck out my tongue.

Dad meanwhile, said "Thanks, Lynn. I appreciate this. We'll be out of here after tonight, I promise."

Lynn said, "Don't worry about it, Keith! I know what dealing with reporters can be like. Stay as long as you need to." She clapped her hands. "As far as beds go, we have plenty of guest bedrooms. Backup can even have his own, if he wants. Logan, go show Veronica to Trina's room. Keith, this way."

As I began to walk up the stairs, I heard Dad say, "I want you both down here in five minutes."

"Keith!" Lynn said. "You're embarrassing them!"

"Good."

I flopped down on the bed as soon as we got to Trina's room. "I can't believe this," I said.

"Yeah. Now you've been in Trina's bedroom as often as you've been mine."

"Not what I meant, Logan. I mean, Beaver . . ."

"His name is Cassidy."

I came to a decision. "No. Cassidy was who he could have been if he'd put in the effort."

"This is getting to you, isn't it?" He said, sitting down on the bed next to me.

"Of course it is," I said. "I wasn't expecting him to kill himself."

"You're not blaming yourself –"

"No, I'm not," I said.

"Think of it this way," Logan said. "This was his final attempt to take control of a situation that he had long since lost control of. By killing himself, he becomes, in some people's eyes at least, a victim again. No matter that he was a victim who'd tried to kidnap one person and raped someone else."

"Are you saying that his suicide was an act of _revenge_?"

"Yes. But not just on you. On everyone. Death becomes him. Everyone who needled him, put him down, called him 'Beaver' instead of Cassidy. Now they all have to feel bad."

"I don't. I feel like I should – and certainly, Beaver was damaged goods, and I am sorry for that – but look at you, Logan. Look at the way you grew up. You had a father who beat you, a mother –"

"Watch it," Logan said.

I gave him a look. I wasn't going to say anything nasty about Lynn Echolls. "A mother who, until recently, was too intimidated to help you, a sister who's a thoughtless glory-hound, and 'friends' who have the emotional depth of an Adam Sandler movie."

"I'm hardly an example of well-adjusted, Veronica."

"No; but tell me, how many people have you raped recently?"

He sighed. "None. I'd never do something like that." Which was exactly my point.

"Anyway, I meant the glut of reporters."

"You didn't watch the news at all today, did you?"

"No."

"Well, apparently our stunt of this morning was on radio by 10 AM and on TV by noon. This was _already_ a big story when Cassidy leapt off the bridge and made it even bigger."

"Boy, school is going to be fun tomorrow . . ."

I heard Dad's voice saying, "Veronica!"

I looked over at Logan. "I know why he's calling us, but I don't think I've ever felt less horny in my life." When he opened his mouth I said, "No innuendoes."

"Then what am I supposed to say?" He said, faking a hurt expression.

"You've been doing fine so far," I said seriously.

After we went back downstairs, I called Duncan (who told Meg), Wallace, and Mac to let them know where we were.

Mac said, "As you might imagine, this has been pretty much the sole topic of conversation on the Neptune High Message Board."

I sighed, "Lay it on me. Mac."

"Lay what on you?"

"How heavy is the storm of criticism aimed at me? Do I just need an umbrella or do I need to flee to higher ground?"

"Barely a drizzle," she said. "Very few people blame you. There's a little bit of complaining about how we were so public about it, and a lot of sympathy heading Dick's way, but while people are saying it's sad, they're not really coming after you. There's a truckload of criticism of the Neptune Sheriff's Department for not having paid attention to you when you reported it a while back and how they couldn't find Beaver before he jumped, but that's about it."

"Wow."

"Yeah, I know. Every once in a while people surprise you in a good way."

X X X X X

The next morning, after a fitful night's sleep, we looked outside.

There were some reporters outside the front gate. Dad put down his cell phone and said, "Honey, I hate to do this to you --"

"Bailjumper?"

"$4,000 reward. He's in Reno."

"Go. I'll stay here again tonight." He frowned. "And I give you my word I will behave."

"And for what it's worth, Mr. Mars," Logan said as he entered the kitchen, "So will I."

"Uh-huh," he said skeptically. "I'll be checking with --"

"Backup?"

"Mrs. Echolls." I actually think if Lynn Echolls caught me and Logan making love, she'd probably back quietly out of the room. She wasn't a voyeur, no matter what Vanessa Mencken had once claimed, but she didn't seem to have any problem with the idea of her son having sex. Of course, I wasn't exactly going to tell Dad that.

Dad decided to leave first. Let some of the reporters follow him to the airport, if they wanted.

As for Logan and I . . .

We took the X-Terra. A half dozen reporters and news crews followed us from the Echolls estate to the parking lot. Logan and I jumped out of the car and ran for Neptune High before we could be boxed in.

A couple of the reporters started chasing us into the building . . .

but that was as far as they got when Clemmons got in their way. "What do you think you're doing?" he demanded.

"Trying to get an interview with Veronica Mars," one of them said.

"Not on school grounds, you're not," Clemmons said. "Now get out or I'll have you thrown out. And if I see you harassing Miss Mars or any other Neptune High student I will have you prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law."

They tried arguing, but one look at the stone wall that was Clemmons and I knew they'd have an easier time talking their way onto an airplane carrying an AK-47.

"Miss Mars!" One of them yelled after me as Logan and I walked into the school. "Did Cassidy Casablancas really rape you?"

I'd promised myself I was going to ignore everything they said, but I had to respond to this one. "His name," I said, "Was Beaver."

X X X X X

**Author's note**: I just couldn't see Veronica feeling conflicted about Cassidy's death . . . At least, not when the pain of finding out about her rape is so raw. I appreciate the arguments to the contrary . . . some of which formed the basis for both veronica's internal monologue and her discussion with Logan.

Would Veronica's opinions change if she knew Woody Goodman had done to him? Probably. But in the course of this fic she likely never will.


	45. Chapter 45

The other students might not have blamed me for Beaver deciding to take a flying leap off the Coronado Bridge, but for the most part they gave me a wide berth. I was actually kind of grateful for this -- I didn't have to deal with any phony sympathy from a lot of people about my rape.

I did give my one and only interview on the subject that day, though: To the Neptune High _Navigator_. Duncan conducted it. It was the only public statement anyone was going to get on the subject.

A reporter from the _San Diego Union-Tribune_ approached me during lunch. I was eating with Wallace and Logan.

Weevil was true to his word. As soon as he saw the man pull out his digital tape recorder, he came over, tossed the recorder to the ground, stepped on it, and told the man "I think the lady would prefer to eat in private."

Then Weevil frog-marched the man to the edge of campus and shoved him into the parking lot, where he sprawled to the pavement.

When Weevil turned around, Clemmons was standing there. He must have been expecting the vice-principal to give him a dressing down; instead, all Clemmons did was nod, tell the reporter, "I meant what I said," and turn around and walk back into the school.

It was one of the first times I've ever seen Weevil speechless.

As I left the school grounds, there were still reporters waiting. I told them "Everything I have to say on this subject I've already said. Read about it in tomorrow's _Navigator_."

"Why would you talk to them and not us?" A woman with a TV crew asked.

"I like the guy who did the interview."

Logan restrained himself from saying anything, though I could see that he was just dying to give them a snarky comment or two.

After school, I stopped at the grocery store to pick up some dog food -- I was intruding on Lynn's hospitality enough as it was, I didn't want to make her have to feed Backup as well.

We also stopped off at home -- I wanted to be sure no one had broken in and tried to create their own story -- and Dad's office. So far the Fourth Estate seemed to be being pushy, not criminal. I also picked up a couple of other things.

When we got back to the Echolls estate, Meg was sitting there in Duncan's car talking to the assembled reporters. Duncan was next to her, his face severely contorted. Getting closer, we could hear why.

"And, ohmygod," Meg was saying. "It was, like, completely a shock, you know? To see all of that on the screens at the school and I was like, I can't believe this, and people were all like, well, it's true and then of course Beaver went and killed himself, which is so sad, you know? And -- Ronnie! Ronniekins! You are just not going to believe this! I can't wait to get inside and tell you!"

The gate swung open, and Logan and I followed Meg and Duncan inside.

Once we parked the cars, Duncan lost it -- he nearly fell out of the car, he was laughing so hard. When he finally got control, he said, "She did that for at least ten minutes. and I think in all that time she gave then ten words' worth of actual information."

"And it was, like, ohmygod, so much fun," she said, flipping her hair. "I mean, they were like totally buying into it, and, you know, I went on for ten minutes without actually saying a thing." Then she burst out laughing too.

Logan and I were smiling, too. I said, "Nice job, Meg. But -- Ronniekins?"

She blinked her eyes, the perfect picture of exaggerated innocence. "Do you have a problem with that, Ronniekins?"

"I guess not, Meggiepoo." We were both grinning like idiots as we said it.

Then Logan said, "Of course. you realize that you just came off like a complete airhead to probably several thousand people."

Meg put her arm around me. "Something else I've learned from Ronniekins is not to care what other people think."

"You're going to call me Ronniekins from now until the end of time, aren't you?"

Meg nodded. "Mmm-hmmm."

I turned to Logan and Duncan. "If either of you ever -- _ever_ -- calls me Ronniekins, I will kill you."

"Should we believe her?" Duncan said to Logan.

"I would. She looks like a biter."

"So," I asked, "Did you drop by for any other reason other than to torment me and those reporters?"

"You mean there's more to life?" Logan asked.

"Yeah," Duncan said, cutting off my retort. "I'm not going to quite be able to run the interview the way we did it."

'Why?"

"Libel laws. You can say anything you want to about Cassidy Casablancas since he's dead, but mentioning Dick and Madison might get you or me or the entire school in trouble. Don't worry. Most of it's still intact."

I shrugged. "That's fine, then."

"Are you really staying here, with Logan, while your father's out of town?" Meg asked. I allowed that I was. "I'd love to be able to have some privacy like that. But my parents -- well, let's just say the Department of Homeland Security should be taking tips from them. The only reason I'm even allowed to date Duncan is because it's the mighty Kane family -- no offense, sweetie --"

"None taken," Duncan said. "My family is mighty."

Meg laughed. "And so they think it might look good on them." She stopped. "Anyway, didn't mean to bring the mood down. My parents are evil. I just have to live with that." Behind Meg's flippancy there was something more than simple complaining about harsh parents.

At some point, I'd have to ask her about it. But right now wasn't the time.

X X X X X

Lynn was on the phone when we got inside. "Really," she said. "I'll tell you what -- send over a contract and I'll have my lawyer take a look at it and we'll see what we can work out. No, I'll be doing it myself. Really. Well then, I'm sure someone else would be interested -- good. Like I said, send over the contract. Goodbye." She turned around and saw us. "Hi, kids!" she said. "I'll bet you're wondering what that was about."

"You're doing your own one-woman show on Broadway about the life of Alice Roosevelt Longworth," Logan said.

Lynn stopped. "Actualle, that's not a bad idea. Do you think people would be interested?"

"Um --"

She laughed. "I know who she is, Logan. While Mrs. Longworth was a fascinating and witty person I doubt too many people would be interested in my impressions of the life of Theodore Roosevelt's daughter." Logan's mouth opened, closed, and then opened again. "Apparently my son doesn't think that I read anything deeper than _People_," Lynn said. "Would anyone else like to guess?"

"You're the new spokesperson for Verizon," Duncan offered.

"No." She tapped her phone. "Not even my brand."

"You're writing a tell-all biography about your and Aaron's life together," I suggested.

Lynn looked at me with a mixed expression of admiration and mild annoyance. Then she clapped her hands and laughed. "Oh, Veronica. You really are brilliant."

"Educated guess, I swear," I said as everyone else in the room turned to look at me as well. "Well, she said she'd be doing it herself and that 'someone else would be interested' if whoever was on the other end didn't want that. I thought, 'ghostwriter.' And there's really not much else people would be interested in coming from you bookwise, Lynn -- no offense. If you wanted to write a biography of this Alice Roosevelt Longfellow --"

"Longworth," Logan and Lynn said simultaneously.

"Right. Your probably wouldn't get much of a nibble. So this made sense. One question, though."

"Yes?"

"Is it really going to be tell _all_? For instance, certain theories --"

"I appreciate your attempts at delicacy, Veronica, but I'm hoping by that point my theory will have more proof."

Duncan and Meg were both clearly confused. "What are you two talking about?"

I hoped Lynn Echolls would be smart enough to suggest to Duncan that her husband had killed his sister. She didn't disappoint. "Theories on how I could have missed the evidence that my husband was having so many affairs," Lynn said. "Because there really was a lot of it. And yes, Veronica; I'm not going to spare myself." After a second, she added, "I even have a title in mind."

"Really?"

"_The Long Haul_. That was the name of the movie that made him a star --"

"And it's certainly indicative of how it felt to put up with the man," Logan said. "An inspired choice, mother. Truly. I look forward to reading it."

Lynn smiled and said, "Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to take a nice swim. Enjoy yourselves, everyone."

After she left, Duncan said, "So . . ."

"I'm thinking either poker or orgy."

Meg and I looked at each other and said in unison, "Poker."

"Spoil my fantasies, Machiavelli."

"That's what girlfriends do. Of course," I said, "We fulfill others."

"Just not right at the moment," Meg said. "Okay, four-handed hold 'em, $200 per person buy-in . . "

X X X X X

Dad called later that night to check up on me and to give me an update on how things were going. "No luck so far, honey," he said. "I know he's been coming to a certain restaurant for dinner every day, but I missed him tonight. I'll see what I can do tomorrow."

"You'll get him," I said. Then I explained how my day had gone.

"Good for Weevil," he said. "And good for Lynn. Did you think to ask if she'd be putting in her ideas about Aaron Echolls the murderer?"

"She says yes -- but that she hopes she'll have more proof by the time the book's actually published. No pressure."

Dad laughed. "What fun would this be without pressure?"

Logan and I did not get to have sex; we did get to engage in some quality makeout time while Lynn spent some time in the tub, but that's about it.

I got another, decidedly less welcome phone call shortly therafter.

"Miss Mars," it said. "I have some information for you."

"Clarence," I said. "How's the wife? How's the kids? Driven anyone into an alcoholic coma recently?"

"Are you done insulting me?" he asked.

"Oh, I've just begun to insult you," I said. "But doing it now, while emotionally satisfying, won't get you off the phone any faster. What do you have?"

"A source of mine at the Balboa County District Attorney said that there had been a preliminary deal in place, that if it were ever discovered that Abel Koontz were ever found not guilty of killing Lilly Kane, that the Casablancas brothers would be cut a deal on the false imprisonment charge in exchange for their testimony demolishing Logan Echolls' alibi. With Cassidy Casablancas' recorded rape concession and later suicide, that deal is now off the table. He-said-he-said does not make for compelling testimony."

"Along those lines," I asked. "Isn't it going to be suspicious when the only tapes that disappeared -- and please do _not_ tell me how you managed that, I suspect finding out would get me 15-life in Guantanamo -- turn out to be the ones that would confirm or deny the Casablancas' story?"

"A good question," Clarence said. "How sad that the tapes for that day, from both sides, were destroyed when the air conditioner leaked."

"Ah. Thanks for clearing that up."

"You're welcome, Miss Mars. Have a good night."

X X X X X

School the next day went a lot more smoothly, and the reporters more or less behaved themselves.

The one real surprise of the day happened when Logan and I got back to the Echolls estate.

Lynn was sitting at a table, looking through a script of some sort. She gestured for Logan and me to take a look at some duplicates.

The cover read "The Aaron Echolls story." As I read through it, I grew more and more amazed.

"I didn't realize," I said, "That your deceased husband could walk on water and heal the sick with his touch." Because apart from a couple of affairs the script made Aaron Echolls look like a saint whom the Earth was blessed to have had on it for the brief 45 years of his life. "I mean, who wrote this piece of crap?"

"That would be me," a voice said from behind me. "Hi, Veronica."

I turned around. "Hi, Trina."


	46. Chapter 46

We are now on the approach path for "Weapons of Class Destruction." Please make sure your tray tables are in an upright and locked position.

This is a bit of an interim chapter. But I think Veronica's entitled to a chapter or two where all manner of hell does not, in fact, break out. But pay careful attention to something that _doesn't_ happen.

Disclaimer: I do not own Veronica Mars. I do not like green eggs and ham. (I'm a vegetarian.)

X X X X X

"So you think the script which I've spent the last three months is crap?" Trina asked.

In for a penny, in for a pound. "Yes, I do, Trina."

"See, that's what I like about you, Veronica," Trina said. "You'll tell me what you really think. So I'm guessing that the night this on you'll be watching _Crossing Jordan, _huh? Oh well. Plenty of other viewers out there."

"Oh, come now, Trina," Logan said. "You haven't given me a chance yet. I think it's twice as crappy as Veronica does."

"Yeah, but you'd tell me that even if it was the next _Gone with the Wind_."

"Trust me," Logan said, "The only way this gets mentioned in the same breath as _Gone with the Wind_ is 'Trina Echolls' script makes _Billy Madison_ look like _Gone with the Wind_."

"Oh, you," Trina said. "Anyway, I actually didn't bring it here for critiquing." Good, because it doesn't look like you're poised to listen. "I brought here to give you all the good news, and to ask you a favor, Lynn."

We all put down the scripts and looked at her. "Go ahead," Lynn said.

"The good news is that I've already sold the script -- it's going to be a TV-movie. We've already even got a star attached! You know Harry Hamlin? He was in some show from the '80s called _LA Lawyers, _or something. He's actually signed on to play Dad." If Harry Hamlin was a star, Dad was a world-renowned consulting detective.

"It's not like he's been getting much else work recently," Lynn said. "And the show was called _LA Law._"

"Law, lawyers, same thing," Trina said.

"And the favor, Trina?" Lynn asked.

"For the other casting, well, I've already signed on to play me."

"Of course," Logan said, "Who else but the person who played murder victim #3 in last week's _SVU_ could handle such a daunting task?"

"And the favor, Trina?" Lynn repeated.

"Since I'm playing me, I'd like you to play you."

"What?" Logan and I asked in unison.

"No, no," Trina said. "Hear me out."

"I'm listening," Lynn said, as Logan and I exchanged looks.

Trina smiled the smile of the self-confident. "I mean, you have to know there are like, half a dozen people out there scrambling to write books or do movies on Dad and his life, right? So why would mine have an edge? I mean, sure, I could play myself, but what would make it better? Lynn Echolls playing Lynn Echolls. Think about it: Instead of watching some actress botch the job on what it was like to be you -- I mean, have you _seen_ that _Three's Company_ movie? I would have made a better Suzanne Somers than that woman would --"

"I agree," Logan said unexpectedly. "Kind of sad for her, though."

"Instead of watching that happen," Trina said buoyantly, "You can do it yourself and make sure we're getting it right. The authentic emotion of when you fell in love. The heartbreak as you watched him die. And everything in between."

"Including the many affairs?"

"I hardly think a couple of women is 'many,' Veronica. They'll be mentioned as humanizing incidents in a great man's life. Anyway, how about it, Lynn?"

I almost felt sorry for Trina. She was so very confident. And she was about to be so very disappointed.

"You should know," Lynn began, "That I'm writing a book about the relationship Aaron and I had."

Trina grinned. "That's perfect! We can time them to come out together and everything!" I really kind of doubted that.

"You know I just shot a part on _The Closer_," Lynn said. Trina nodded. "Good. Well, since that came out in the trades I've been getting some more offers. There are a lot of people who want to direct or write the movie where I make my big comeback in a starring role. My agent's already received a couple of dozen scripts." Trina seemed confused. "One of those scripts," Lynn went on, "Would have me as the warden of a women's prison. I would fall in love with one of my inmates and arrange for her escape. In between chase scenes there would be torrid, almost too-raunchy-for-R lesbian sex." Lynn laughed. "The script looks as though it were originally written in crayon and transcribed into a computer by someone who doesn't know English very well. The person who wrote it knows nothing about prisons, lesbians, sex, or women. Though they do seem to have a disturbing knowledge of handcuffs. I could likely get my salary in rolls of quarters and be able to carry the entire thing out in my purse. And do you know what, Trina?"

"What?"

"I would sooner do that movie than yours."

Trina just sat there open-mouthed while Logan burst out laughing.

"Not only that, Trina," Lynn said. "I would sooner do _any_ movie than yours. Don't take it personally. It has nothing to do with you and everything to do with the subject of your film. I will not make that bastard look good."

"But, but --"

"He had _dozens_ of affairs, Trina. Not just a couple," I said.

"I'm surprised you'd believe everything you read in the tabloids, Veronica."

"I don't believe _anything_ I read in the tabloids. I have --" I stopped myself. "Other sources."

"And let's not forget the trivial fact that he beat me on a regular basis," Logan said. "I notice a disturbing lack of abuse in your script. Except for abuse of the English language. And common sense. And the facts. But since when have you ever let that stand in your way?"

Trina gathered up the scripts and said, "Fine. I'll just go get someone else to do it, then." After a second, "But I can still stay here, right?"

As Logan rolled his eyes, Lynn clapped her hands and said, "Of course, Trina! You're family, after all. There will always be a place for you here." Then her voice grew a touch of steel. "Unless you bring me another script like that again."

"I'll be in my room," she said sulkily as she left.

"Actually, I'm staying in that one," I said.

"Veronica's right, Trina," Lynn said. "Take the second guest bedroom."

After she was out of earshot I said, "And we didn't even tell her that you think Aaron killed Lilly Kane."

"I think she would have keeled over on the spot," Logan said. Then he stood up. "I think I'll go tell her now."

"Sit down, Logan," Lynn and I said together.

X X X X X

That night, Dad called. "Success!"

"Like there was any doubt."

"I'll be flying out in an hour. How are things going there?"

I mentioned the lowered number of reporters and the return of Trina Echolls. "Sounds good," he said. "The decline in reporters, I mean. Not Trina."

"Be nice, Dad," I said. "Trina doesn't have a malicious bone in her body. She's terminally clueless and is the queen of self-promotion, but she's not actually evil

"How's Backup doing?"

"He loves the Echolls' huge backyard. I think he's been spoiled for good."

"Well, he won't have too much longer to get spoiled. I'm thinking maybe tomorrow we can move back home."

"Good."

"You don't like being under the same roof as your boyfriend?"

Hello, landmine. "Why no, Dad. I love the fact that Logan and I can now work our way through the Kama Sutra without feeling rushed."

"Funny, Veronica."

"Seriously dad, I love that Lynn Echolls was willing to do this for us and it's a nice place . . . but it's not home."

"Are you saying you'd rather live in a two-room apartment than a mansion?"

"When it's our two-room apartment and someone else's mansion, yeah."

"Me too."

Logan and I didn't get to work our way through the Kama Sutra that night, but with Trina and Lynn both having vacated the premises for a couple of hours we did get to exercise a certain amount of sexual inventiveness. To be polite to Lynn, though, we restricted our inventiveness to the bed I was using, and Logan's bed.

But Logan can get _amazingly_ inventive.

Of course, if what he was screaming was any indication, I wasn't doing too badly myself . . .

We were long since done by the time Dad got back, of course. We were sitting around a table, reading a heisted copy of Trina's script and alternately laughing and cursing.

X X X X X

That night, I dreamed of Lilly again.

She was sitting on the edge of Trina's bed. "Was I ever in here?" she asked.

"How would I know?" I asked.

"Well, you can just investigate, can't you?" She flipped her hair. "I mean, maybe if I paid you you could find out for me."

"I wish you could, Lilly," I said.

"My money's just as good as everyone else's, Veronica Mars. No. Better. Because it comes from my fabulous self."

"I see you're still walking the Earth, Lilly."

"Well, my shade hasn't been avenged yet, silly!" She lay down next to me and giggled.

"It probably never will be," I said. "Anyway, didn't you once tell me that I might just have to be satisfied with knowing that Aaron Echolls did it?"

"Oh, Veronica, Veronica, you should know that I'm always right. I was right then, and I'm right now."

"I wish you were still here right now, Lilly. I miss you."

"Do you really?"

"Miss you? Of course."

"No, sweetie. I miss you too. But look at who you are now and who you were then. Would you want to become that you again?"

"If it meant having you back, yes."

"I wouldn't," Lilly said. "I like you just the way you are. Don't go changing to try and please me . . ."

"Arrgh!" I said. "Make it stop! You never could sing, Lilly."

'Don't be silly, Veronica. I sing like an angel."

And all I could think when I woke up was that I'd make that trade. I'd make that trade in a second . . .

X X X X X

The next morning, Dad and I packed up, thanked the Echolls (minus the surly Trina, who was still sleeping it off), and left. We took Dad's car; Logan was going to follow us over in about fifteen minutes and I was going to pick up the LeBaron that day after school.

"I think we should see Mom again today," I said. "I mean, if we're there there's always a chance --"

"Sure, Veronica," he said. "Good idea."

"It's just -- I don't want her thinking we've forgotten about her, you know? Because we haven't."

"No. We haven't."

There was something a bit off about his answers -- not that he didn't mean them, but that he wished he could say something else as well. I had no idea what that would be.

School that day was a bit weird. Not that there were any reporters -- they finally seemed to have found something more interesting to do -- but we had not only an insufferably perky new newspaper advisor, Ms. Stafford, but also the third fire drill in three days.

She suggested that that might make a good story.

Yeah. Right.


	47. Chapter 47

I'll be going into "Weapons of Class Destruction" in some depth, but I'll try to summarize the parts that haven't changed. No point making this chapter a total rehash, but some rehashing is inevitable.

But once again, look at what hasn't happened.

Disclaimer: I do not own _Veronica Mars_. I did not have sex with that woman, Miss Lewinski.

X X X X X

I made an appointment to see Mr. Clemmons after lunch.

Lunch that day was with Wallace, at my insistence. "What's this about?" he asked suspiciously.

"What's what about?"

"Why do you want to spend lunch just with me?"

"No motive. It's just been a while."

"You're not going to ask me any favors?"

"Well, I may try to swipe your cookie, but otherwise, no plans." After a second, "Have I really been asking you that many favors?"

"Sometimes it seems that's all I do for you. Don't get me wrong. I'm your friend and I know you're mine too. But there's a bit of an inequality here. Doesn't the brother get to ask any favors?"

"Okay, what do you want?"

He stammered for a second. "Nothing, really. Just keeping my options open."

"So, changing the subject . . . Dad was acting real weird this morning."

"Yeah, my mom too," Wallace said. "She was acting like she wanted to tell me something but just started making small talk about relationships."

"Parents," I said.

"You said it."

We finished the rest of the meal discussing nothing of consequence. I was going to ask him his opinion of the fire drills but figured, since he worked in the office, he'd probably take that as a favor request.

I did, however, take his cookie. I noticed as I did so a website etched into the table: My best guess is, it wasn't about someone's pet gerbil.

Clemmons definitely seemed to be hiding something with the fire drills. He gave me some song-and-dance about the "district-wide policy for mid-semester fire drills," when I knew damn well that as long as I'd been in Neptune schools we'd had one, maybe two a semester. Not three in one week.

At Ms. Stafford's suggestion – the woman may have been terminally perky but she only looked dumb – I called Assistant Superintendent Roush to find out what district policy actually was. One a semester, just as I thought. I still couldn't figure out what was going on until cops with dogs came in and, just as our resident experts in high living were hitting the panic button, the dogs zoomed past them as though they were looking for something else.

So what else could they be looking for? A quick phone call to Clemmons – as Assistant Superintendent Roush, I do have a gift for mimicry – confirmed my fears:

Bomb threats.

I ran with it in that issue of the _Navigator_, with Ms. Stafford's full blessing. I might have to re-evaluate my opinion of her: she might have less journalism experience than I did, but she had to know that the story would tick off Clemmons and yet she told me to run with it anyway.

X X X X X

Logan took me directly to the Echolls estate as soon as I submitted the article; while ostensibly I was there only to pick up my car and then go see Mom – and Mac was coming by around 5 PM so she and Logan could square off on one of the _Grand Theft Auto_ spinoffs – that still gave us a half hour or so we weren't planning on wasting.

Lynn's car wasn't even in the driveway. I think I had Logan's shirt off before we even got the front door closed, and he had half my buttons undone.

"If I wanted to see porn," a bored voice came from the inside of the house. "I'd rent some."

We stopped, mid-grope, and saw Trina sitting in the living room going over her script. "Well, my mood's killed," I said, buttoning my shirt.

"_Your_ mood's killed?" Logan muttered. "I won't be thinking about sex for a week." I looked at him. "Okay, a day." I kept up my glare. "Okay, five minutes. Sheesh, Mars. What is it with women?"

"All I really need to know about life I learned from _Buffy the Vampire Slayer_," I said. "Looking at linoleum makes teenaged boys want to have sex."

"Maybe they had better linoleum than we do."

Anyway, with the mood killed, I took my car and left. God help Clemmons if he got really angry tomorrow. A frustrated Veronica is a cranky Veronica.

Mom was exactly the same. Exactly the same.

Damn Jake Kane and Damn Clarence Weidman and damn those assholes at the Sage Brush cantina who kept giving booze to a woman who was clearly drinking herself to death.

Damn all of them.

Dad came in a few minutes later and kissed her hello. Then we both started to tell her how our weeks had gone so far. This was the routine. We sat, we talked, we stared sadly, we left.

That was not the beginning of despair I felt. It wasn't.

I was ready to tear the head off the next person who pissed me off.

X X X X X

Fortunately for his head, Vice Principal Clemmons was not that person. All he did the next morning was politely request me to stop writing about the bomb threats -- apparently he was still trying to be nice to me after the crap I'd gone through in the last week. He didn't even ask me who my source was.

I must be like Meg and not use these powers for evil.

It's going to be mighty tempting, though.

After an English class highlighted by a new student named Ben making disturbing comments about death and Norris Clayton laughing along, I headed out for lunch, gulped down my food and went out to the parking lot, where Logan was waiting in his X-Terra.

I still didn't quite have enough guts to try an overtly sexual act in the Neptune High parking lot – nothing would kill the mood faster than having Weevil notice and make some smartass comment, Clemmons suspending us for PDS, or (even worse) Madison peering in or maybe taking pictures.

Of course, Meg still had that topless shot of Madison so there was a serious case of M.A.D there. But you get the point.

Anyway, by the time we were done and headed back to class I was no longer in imminent danger of murdering anyone.

Logan – who had gotten crushed at _GTA San Andreas_ -- still wanted to find something to beat Mac at. This was becoming an obsession with him.

"Pong?" I said as we walked.

"Funny, Machiavelli," Logan said.

"52-pickup?"

"Knock it off."

"Rock, paper, scissors?"

"You're lucky I love you."

On the way home that day, talk turned to the subject of Logan's favorite sister.

"I assume she hasn't been dumb enough to push her idea of Lynn acting in that script any further," I said.

"Trina? She may be monomaniacal but she's not dumb enough to want to end the gravy train. Dad left Trina a little bit of cash and knowing my darling sister she's already burned through it. She wants to live a Paris Hilton lifestyle on a Camelot Motel budget. She has to stay on mother's good side." He smirked. "She even tried to make Trina be nice to me but I told her not to bother. I may not care overmuch for Trina but if she wasn't allowed to vent at someone she'd explode."

"You do love her a little, don't you?"

"We are as far apart as two children of the same father could possibly be," he said. "I don't like Trina at all. But she's family." Which was all the explanation necessary. Trina was in that class of people that Logan would kill to protect. Even if Trina wouldn't necessarily understand or appreciate it.

That night, there was some daddy-daughter time watching an old movie called _Storm Warning_. Some drama starring Doris Day and, of all people, Ronald Reagan. Not my type of movie -- I'm one with the people who say that Ronald Reagan was every bit as good a politician as he was an actor -- but Dad seemed to enjoy it, and I enjoyed spending time with him.

My computer wouldn't stop the next morning, so when I ran across Mac in the middle of a discussion in some foreign tongue – well, that's what it sounded like – with Pete Kamiski, I asked her to take a look at it.

"Sure, Veronica," she said. "Um – but I'm going to need to take it with me, okay?"

"No problem. I trust you implicitly."

She looked at me and rubbed her hands gleefully. "My evil plan is working." Then she took my computer and left. Pete stopped me before I could take off and mentioned that he'd seen Norris and Ben throwing exploding tennis balls at stray cats.

Okay. This plus plus bomb threats has just put this investigation on a whole new level of frightening.

I ran into Wallace near his locker. "You know," he said a little quietly, "I'm getting a little worried about my mom."

"Worried like 'she keeps forgetting the milk' worried or worried like it's something worse?"

"Nothing melodramatic," he said. "She was going off on men last night for near as I could tell no reason at all."

"Hmmm. Has she been seeing anyone recently?"

"She hasn't seen anyone serious since my Dad died."

I shrugged. "Well, maybe she was trying to get something started with someone and it didn't work out or the guy called things off for some reason."

"But why would that get her this upset?"

"Maybe it was starting to get serious. I don't know. Psychoanalysis? Not my strong suit. If you want me to investigate –"

"No!" Wallace said in a hurry. "Far as I'm concerned my Mom's a nun and I'd like to keep it that way."

I saw Ben and Norris talking nearby. Looking at Wallace, I said, "And now to return our relationship to its normal ebb and flow . . ."

Wallace turned around, saw the two, and said, "You want me to get their files, don't you?" I smiled a bit sheepishly. "You're so predictable."

"I'll have to work on that."

"Clemmons made Norris turn his shirt inside out." When I asked why, he said it was because Norris' shirt read, "Kill 'em all. Let God sort 'em out."

Killemall, hmmm? Sounds like the kind of coincidence that isn't. When I checked out the website, the level of frightening ratcheted up from yellow to orange.

Wallace spent lunch sitting with the jocks, but I got to eat with Meg, Duncan, and Logan. I described the story of an entertainment lawyer who'd completely disappeared and then went in to how he did it.

"Wow," Duncan said when I was done. "I'll have to keep that in mind if we ever need to disappear."

"Can you think of any reason you'd need to disappear?" Logan asked.

Meg shrugged. "No. But it's always good to have options."

As we broke apart, I tried to talk to Ben and Norris – didn't get much of anywhere – and got Norris' file from Wallace, but Ben apparently didn't have one.

As school ended, I heard Ben and Norris having an argument about guns, then ran to follow Ben as he left the school.

Ben was living at the Camelot (odd for a high school student) and I saw him buying more fertilizer than you'd need for the entire state of Kansas.

Level of frightening, now red.

I took pictures until my phone rang.

"Hey," the voice on the other end said. "It's Meg."


	48. Chapter 48

I put the camera down. "Hi, Meg. How's it going?"

"Fairly well." A deep breath. "I wanted to ask you a favor."

"Anytime. What?"

"Well, remember when I said I wanted to be you when I grew up?"

What could she want? "Yes –" My passenger door opened. I turned, saw Ben there with a gun in his belt, and was so startled I dropped the phone.

"Let's go for a ride," he said.

Level of frightening is now above red. What's above red? Infra-red?

Ben gave me directions. Along the way – hoping like hell Meg was still listening in – I managed to get Ben to admit we were going to the Camelot.

When we got there, he began hustling me up the stairs. I frantically tried to come up with a way out and couldn't think of anything. We got to the top. Ben said, "I know you think you're being a hero, but a lot of people might die because of you."

"Let's just hope I'm not one of them," I said.

"You won't be," he said, unlocking the door and pushing me in ahead of him.

Meg sat on the bed in a bra and panties.

As Ben gaped for a second, I yanked myself free and pulled the gun from his waistband. I checked; the safety was off and the thing was, in fact, loaded. I'm not an expert or anything but Dad insisted I at least know the rudiments on the off chance I ever needed to. Smart man. I think tonight I was going to bake him cookies. "Don't move," I said. "Hi, Meg."

"Hi, Veronica," she said, quickly dressing.

"How did you get in here?" Ben asked.

"Excuse me," I said. "I believe I'm the one with the gun." I turned to Meg. "Tell me later."

"Okay. I also called the cops."

Ben said, "Oh, terrific. Just what I didn't need."

"Sorry to spoil your carefully laid plans of violence and destruction," I said sardonically.

"That's not it. Look. I have my wallet in my hand here."

"You think you're going to pay us to look the other way while you blow up the school?"

He sighed. "Just look at it."

"Throw it to her." He did.

Meg flipped it open and said, "Oh, crap."

"Oh, crap?" Meg turned the wallet around. I snuck a glance over and saw the badge inside. "He's a federal agent."

"ATF. Can I move now?"

He took my silence as an answer, and walked towards me. "And my gun?"

I handed it to him. "We need to talk," he said.

"Is this the way you get everyone to talk to me?" I asked. "At gunpoint? You must be the hit of the ATF Christmas party."

"I told you you didn't know what you were getting yourself into." After a second. "Alone?"

"Not hardly," Meg said.

"I think I'll be safe," I said. "Why don't you go outside and keep an eye out for the Sheriff?"

"Leave the door open."

"My exact thoughts."

Meg left and Ben and I talked for maybe three minutes about why he thought Norris was a Columbine waiting to happen. When he mentioned that Norris had a crush on me, I was a bit wigged out – though it would certainly explain why he stopped those spitballers so long ago – but said, "That may be a problem. It's not exactly a secret that I'm dating Logan Echolls."

"So? It's not like I'm asking you to actually date him. Just use this and you've got yourself an in. If you need anything else, try talking about his ancient weapon collection."

I said I'd try, and left. Ben may have been an ATF agent and technically on the side of the good guys, but I didn't like him and I didn't trust him, and I tended to go with my instincts at times like these.

Still, while Ben was an asshole, this still didn't mean Norris might not be planning something.

Meg was standing outside the hotel room. "Thank you," I said, and gave her a big hug. "I can't believe you stripped to save me."

"I thought he was going to kill you, Veronica," Meg said. "I'd've danced naked in the middle of the gym to stop that."

"How did you get here?"

"I looked around and didn't see any of our other friends. So I flagged down Casey Gant and begged him."

"And he couldn't resist those big brown eyes?"

"I am pretty irresistible," she said. Which sounds like a Lilly line, but Meg added a glint of self-deprecating humor that made it clear she didn't believe a word she was saying. Lilly would have not only believed it, she would have convinced you. She sighed. "Not irresistible enough to get him to stick around afterwards, unfortunately. Can I get a ride?"

"After what you did today, you can get a ride to Cleveland if you want." We started walking down to the car.

"What's in Cleveland?"

"Um . . . Drew Carey?"

"Pass."

We both laughed.

As we got in the LeBaron, I asked, "How did you get in the room?"

"Why, Mr. Desk Clerk, I just dropped by to surprise my boyfriend," she said in a blonde bimbo voice, eyelashes fluttering. "Could you, um, let me in? I want to be there waiting for him . . . ready. If you know what I mean."

"How long were you waiting?"

"About two minutes. Just long enough to get really nervous."

I grinned as we pulled out of the Camelot parking lot. Lamb and Company had yet to put in an appearance. "I don't see what you have to be nervous about. I couldn't have done it any better. Speaking of which . . ."

"Yes?"

"You were saying something about wanting to be me before I was so rudely kidnapped?"

"Yeah, um . . . I want you to train me in what you do."

"You want to learn how to annoy my father, ask Wallace for favors and say snarky things to Logan?"

"I want you tell me how to be a detective."

I looked at her. "You're serious."

"I'm serious."

"So I train you and then next year everyone's coming to you for their problems and then what am I supposed to do for money?"

She laughed. "No. I need to learn . . . for reasons of my own."

"What reasons are those?"

"I'd rather not tell you. But I need to learn how to bug, and how to keep things hidden from people who are really, really determined to find out all your secrets. Hidden cameras, all of that. Please?"

"Are these people your parents?"

She closed her eyes. "Please don't ask. This is something I need to do myself."

"I'm your friend, Meg. If you're having parent trouble I'll help you any way I can."

"So you'll teach me?"

What the hell. "I'll teach you."

"Thanks, Ronniekins!" She hugged me as best she could considering I was driving at the time.

I had come far in the world.

I now had my own disciple.

My first order of business: Get her to knock off the "Ronniekins" gag.

X X X X X

I warned Meg not to tell anyone about what had happened -- I wasn't going to blow Ben's cover no matter how big a jackass I thought he was -- and then promptly told Logan.

"Will you be too terribly disappointed if I 'accidentally' trip Ben tomorrow?"

"Just don't 'accidentally' duct tape him to the flagpole."

"No way. I don't want Weevil hunting me down for trademark infringement." After a second: "Anyway, Machiavelli, any idea why Meg wants to become your mini-me?"

"Have you checked our respective sizes? I think she's 'maxi-me."

Logan laughed. "Point taken."

"And then there's what our unfriendly neighborhood ATF agent actually wants me to do."

"Yeah. Cozy up to the next Dylan Klebold. Can't say I'm fond of the idea."

"It's not on the top of my list of 'things to do before I'm 30,' either, but what're you going to do?"

"Come with you."

I laughed. "Thanks, Logan, but 'cozying up' to a scary guy with a crush on you is harder if your boyfriend's in the room."

"I'll remember that if I'm ever sent to prison."

After a second I asked, "So. Trina still there?"

"And has no plans of leaving anytime soon. I think she'll work through her sulk sometime before the next solar eclipse."

"Well, even without Lynn, I would have thought the script being in production would have kind of cheered her up."

"Yeah, well . . . turns out that, as with so much else in my darling sister's life, that was just a _wee_ bit exaggerated."

"No guaranteed TV movie?"

"Yeah. And she picked Harry Hamlin straight off the IMDB." A pause.

"Poor Trina."

He sounded offended. "Poor Trina? She's staying here for free, eating for free, and working on her script for free. She actually asked me for help. When she said, 'but how _little_ abuse could we put in there and still make sure Dad looks good?' I got up and left the room."

"That's what I meant. Poor, poor, terribly clueless Trina."

"That I can get behind."

I also dropped by Mac's to pick up my computer, and not only paid her her going rate but gave her a tip.

"What's the extra $10 for, Veronica?"

"To make sure you don't think I take you for granted."

"You don't need to feed my ego," she said. "But extra cash is always welcome."

"Good. Also, how long do you plan to keep beating Logan?"

"Until he finds a game he's actually better than me at."

"So, forever?"

"Pretty much."

X X X X X

So here's how the rest of the Norris Clayton saga went.

I got myself the invite to his house. He showed me his weapons -- quite an impressive collection, actually -- and then he invited me to an Akira Kurosawa retrospective for the weekend. "Just because we both seem to like his work," he said. "I'm not horning in on Logan or anything." His tone clearly still indicated a massive crush. I was noncommital and left.

Why would he ask me to go to a movie festival on the weekend if he was planning armageddon for tomorrow?

He wouldn't. He was being set up. And seeing computer whiz Pete Kamiski -- who, it turned out had been bullied by Norris for years -- enter the house next door clinched who. (He'd set up the killemall website.)

Partially. The next morning Norris was arrested by the ATF and was caught with fertilizer and a high-powered rife. Fortunately for Norris, I had photos of Ben buying it, and Ms. Stafford convined Duncan and me to run with the story in the next _Navigator_.

Clemmons was angry, but Norris got out and Ben got in a lot of trouble. When Clemmons tried to pin all the blame on Ms. Stafford, Duncan said, "No, it's my fault, Mr. Clemmons. I showed her a dummy headline and story. She didn't know anything about it." I went along with the story.

Ms. Stafford said, "No, I knew about it all along. I can't let them lie for me."

Clemmons looked from me to Duncan to Ms. Stafford and back again. Then he said, "You, you, you're both suspended from the paper for one week. Ms. Stafford -- try not to be so naive in the future." And he dismissed us all.

She looked at Duncan and me as we walked down the hall. "You didn't have to do that, guys."

"Of course we did," I said. "You would have been fired otherwise and Duncan and I both agree you're worth keeping."

"Right," Duncan said. "What you did took guts. We would've let you down if we'd let you throw yourself into the line of fire on our behalf."

She smiled. "Thanks, guys. We'll try to struggle along without you while you're gone."

"And it will be a struggle," I said.

X X X X X

That night, Meg dropped by, allegedly to study English but actually to get her first lesson in being a detective.

"Okay," I said. "The first thing you need to know is, what works for me might not work for you, and vice versa. Take what I say as general guidelines, not hard-and-fast rules. Develop your own techniques. Remember, people _want_ to believe you. You're an excellent natural liar. Go with your strengths. Second . . ."


	49. Chapter 49

Another interim chapter. But what an interim.

Disclaimer: Veronica Mars belongs to Rob Thomas. And they say we belong to the night, we belong to the thunder . . .

X X X X X

Meg came over to my house three nights running as I began training her in the rudiments of spying, hidden cameras and microphones, and the art of coming up with a good cover story. Dad, though he knew Meg and I were friends, was nonetheless a little suspicious about this, and brought this up to me Sunday morning.

"What?" I asked. "What's suspicious about Meg coming over? We _are_ friends, you know."

"You go into your room every time and shut the door."

"Would you like to listen in while we study and gossip?"

"You do not gossip, Veronica."

"Please! I may call it 'obtaining information for future investigations,' but by and large it's gossip and you and I both know it."

"Then why do you close the door?"

I looked him squarely in the eye. "You're right, Dad. You've caught us. Meg and me, we're part of a secret organization to control the world. We're in there divvying up territories and making plans for how best to blackmail the UN into ceding us control. I'm thinking sex scandal; Duncan wants to work the financial angles; Meg is more the 'giant space laser pointed at New York, Beijing, Tokyo and Sydney' type. Logan simply thinks we should raise our own army. Any thoughts?"

"Funny, Veronica," Dad said as he grabbed his briefcase. He didn't like to work on Sundays, but he thought he had another angle of proving Abel Koontz's innocence and time was getting kind of short, there. So he was off to Las Vegas to check something out. One, two-day trip max, he thought. He didn't tell me what angle and though I was dying to ask, I didn't.

"We'll give you New Zealand!" I called after him. He didn't answer. "Scotland? Sri Lanka? Get back to me!"

The rest of my day was booked. Logan came over a half hour or so after Dad left.

He left in the early afternoon.

What we did in the interim was exciting, entertaining, exhausting, at times left me and Logan too weak to get up, and the details are no one's business but ours.

But as exercise, it beats jogging any day of the week.

After a quick shower, I called Meg, and then Mac. Mac was a bit bemused by my request, but said, "As long as I'm getting paid I'll teach anyone. I'll be right over."

Meg arrived first; we chatted about inconsequential things, such as how Trina Echolls was driving not only Logan crazy but everyone who wandered onto the Echolls estate, including herself, Duncan, and even Mac.

"But it's hard to hate her for it," Meg said.

"You? Hate someone? Deep down inside you there's probably a warm and fuzzy place for anyone who isn't actively a mass murderer or a child abuser."

Her eyes clouded for a second – if I hadn't been looking, I wouldn't have noticed. I already knew this was about her parents; so she either thought one or both of her parents was a murderer, or she knew they were abusers.

I couldn't let her know I knew this. She wanted this to be secret.

On the other hand, she needed how to learn to keep secrets. Admittedly, I was a better reader of things like that than most, but still, if she was trying to bring down her parents she absolutely _could not_ slip up. Maybe after Mac left.

Then Meg said, "True, but with Trina it's more pity than anything else. She almost seems like she could be a good person if she could just shake off her self-absorption, ambition and father worship."

Which more or less matched my judgment. "But if Trina weren't self-absorbed, ambitious, and father-worshipping, she wouldn't have any personality at all."

"Also true. But then she'd be a blank slate. A blank slate we could mold . . ." she rubbed her hands together evilly.

"Oh, God. I've created a monster."

And that's when Mac arrived.

See, while I was pretty good at the detection stuff, Mac was the computer whiz, and Meg was already ahead of me when it came to how to use a computer – except for sheer research, at which I bowed to no one. It had been Meg, after all, who'd spliced in the tape of Cassidy and my confrontation in the bathroom, and that was all done digitally. I know cameras, but even that was out of my league.

Thus, Mac. If Mac could teach Meg a few basic hacking skills – and even more importantly, how to hide things on your computer you didn't want your parents to find – that could only help Meg in the long run.

Mac was kind of bemused by the idea of Meg learning how to be a detective – I think she thinks it's a case of hero worship, not that I'm not entirely sure that's not part of it – but she was getting paid and she liked Meg anyway, so she didn't pry.

I paid attention as best as I could, even though about fifty percent of what was being said was over my head. When the discussion got around to hiding files, I was able to contribute some. "How computer literate are your parents?" I asked.

"They know how to open it up and look around and they check my email and internet habits. They also go through my car and my backpack, my closet . . . everything. About your level, I'd say, computerwise. They always assume I'm being deceptive." She smiled.

"They read all your email?"

"Every single one."

"We need to set you up with a hotmail account – just never access it through the computer you use at home," Mac said. "Use the ones at the library or school. Or a friend's."

"Also, you have a boyfriend – if you need to hide anything in a hurry, hide it in Duncan's car. And when he visits you, make him keep it locked. They don't search every car on the block, do they?"

"No. They're afraid of publicity."

"Good."

What was it about Neptune and creepy parents? As near as I could tell Mac's adoptive parents, Lynn Echolls, Dad and Alicia Fennel were the only ones who didn't qualify.

"This conversation left computers in a hurry," Mac said.

"I need to be able to hide things – and I need to be able to find them out. And I need to know quickly." Meg looked at Mac. "Please don't ask why. I'm not ready yet."

"She hasn't told me either," I said.

Mac said, "Okay, then. Tell me if you're ever comfortable." And then we got back to the best ways of hiding computer files.

After a few hours, Mac left $100 richer.

"Is this a good start?" I asked Meg.

"I think so," Meg said. "But how do I find out?"

"Tell you what. Next case I actually get involved in . . . you help me with it. We'll see how your instincts are. Anyone can rig up a camera or microphone; the trick is knowing when and where." Then I said, "Any school-related case, I mean. I'm sure my parents and yours would frown at you helping me stake out the Camelot motel waiting to see which cheating husband is cheating with whose secretary."

"My parents might kill me."

I don't think she was joking.

X X X X X

The rest of the day was uneventful. I studied, chatted with Wallace, walked Backup, talked with Logan, and went to bed.

The next day at school, it was weird watching Logan try to run the newspaper – Ms. Stafford at my and Duncan's urging, had picked him as temporary editor in our absence, for which he had promised to murder the both of us in our sleep.

Wallace hung with the jocks, and Mac and Meg were setting up a secret school computer account.

So Duncan and I were eating lunch together. Alone.

Two months ago this would have been awkward as hell. Duncan and I would have talked about safe subjects and in monosyllables before one of us got up and left – if we didn't simply run screaming from the table.

Now that 95 of our issues were behind us, now that Duncan seemed happy with Meg and I was happy with Logan, we could actually have a civilized conversation.

After some discussion of Meg's daring rescue and what the _Navigator_ would look like in our absence, Duncan asked, "So, Meg's taking detective lessons from you?"

"Yup," I said. "There are parts she's a natural at – she lies more convincingly than anyone I've ever seen – and parts she's working on." After a second, "Do you know –"

"Yes. And I'm not telling you."

I sighed. "I wasn't actually going to ask. I just wanted to know if someone did. It's important, I know, and she can tell me or not at her leisure." Then, "And I honestly can't think of anyone better backing her up."

"I can. You." I flushed slightly at the compliment. Then he grinned. "But I make a pretty good runner-up."

"You make an excellent runner-up."

Logan came by right then. "You two enjoying your time off?" he asked.

Duncan and I looked at each other and nodded in unison. "Uh-huh."

"I already promised to kill you for making me do this, right?"

"Right," Duncan said.

"Remind me to make it a slow death."

Duncan and I laughed as Logan ran off.

X X X X X

Dad called that afternoon. "Guess where I am," he said.

"Right behind me?" I whirled around.

"No."

"Kuala Lumpur?"

"No."

"Well, then, I give up."

"I'm in the editorial room of Neptune's finest newspaper –"

"The _Navigator_?"

He chuckled. "All right then, Neptune's finest for-pay newspaper. Do you want to guess who's with me?"

"If it's Santa Claus tell him I'm miffed because he never brought me that pony."

"I am standing here with a Las Vegas prostitute named Cheyenne. Would you like to know why?"

"Dad, if you don't quit dragging this out for dramatic effect I swear I'll reach through the phone and poke you in the eye."

"You ruin all my fun," he said.

"That's what daughters do. Now spill."

"Cheyenne was with Abel Koontz the night Lilly was killed. She's in here now talking to a reporter – and I've also given him my story about the shoes and a copy of the "agreement" Amelia DeLongpres had with Kane Software."

I grinned. "The smoking gun."

"The smoking gun."

"I should be home in an hour or so, honey. Tonight we celebrate!"

"See you then."

Tonight, I could celebrate.

Tomorrow, things were going to get interesting.


	50. Chapter 50

Wow. Part 50.

I guess for part 50 you deserve something special. Don't let it be said that I disappoint.

Disclaimer: I do not own Veronica Mars. Unfortunately.

X X X X X

There's an old-time movie producer named Samuel Goldwyn. You've probably never heard of him. I wouldn't have if it wasn't for Dad's fondness for old movies.

Anyway, one of the things he was famous for was his offbeat and almost Zen-like sayings such as "I read part of it all the way through" and "I want some new clichés."

Here's one to keep in mind as you hear about my Tuesday:

"What we want is a story that starts with an earthquake and works its way up to a climax."

X X X X X

The earthquake was the news story, which hit the stands the next day.

Dad headed down to Lamb's office with all the evidence he had before the Sheriff could have the pleasure of showing up and demanding it.

At school that morning, as I got out of my car, Weevil Navarro came storming up to me, holding a copy of the paper. "So it's been proven. That Koontz _pendejo_ didn't kill Lilly." He wasn't asking a question.

"All true," I said.

"The Kanes paid this guy off to take the fall. Why, V? Why would they do that?" He didn't let me answer. "I'll tell you why. They were protecting one of their own. Either the parents did it or your ex-boyfriend." He slammed his fist into his open hand. "Tell me which one it is, V. Tell me so I can kill them for taking Lilly away."

"I don't think any of them did it."

"You protecting them?"

"Don't insult my intelligence. I wouldn't protect Jake or Celeste from a speeding bus. And as for Duncan -- well, yeah, I used to date him, but if I believe he killed Lilly I wouldn't protect him either." He still seemed upset. "Weevil. You spent an entire day chasing down Beaver Casablancas after you found out her raped me. Do you think for a second I'd protect the Kanes if I thought they'd done it?"

He looked at me and said, "Okay, the Kanes didn't do it, why'd they cover it up?"

"You're smarter than that. Because they _thought_ one of them had done it."

"So how do you know different?"

And that was what I couldn't tell him.

Or could I? The story'd broken and I doubt Clarence Weidman was bugging the Neptune High parking lot anyway. In any event, I had to stop Weevil from going after Duncan. "Because I know who did; I just can't prove it."

"Tell me who it is. I'll make 'em confess."

I leaned closer to Weevil. "Do not tell this to anyone, Weevil."

"I won't."

"I want an oath. Swear on your grandmother's life. I know who it is but I'm not sure I have enough proof and if this gets out."

"Fine. I swear on my grandmother's life not to tell anyone who killed Lilly." He paused. "But if I see them, all bets are off."

"Spend a lot of time hanging around graveyards, do you?"

"Huh?"

"The person who killed Lilly is dead."

He jumped to the wrong conclusion. "Casablancas. _Damn_ I wish I'd caught the punk."

"Wrong famous Neptune dead person."

"You sayin' _Aaron Echolls_ killed Lilly?"

"Yeah. And you're not going to want to hear why."

"Probably not. Tell me anyway."

I pursed my lips and blew out a breath. "They were sleeping together. I think she did what Vanessa Mencken did after Aaron died -- found tapes and threatened to expose him. Aaron couldn't have that and killed him."

He shook his head. "I thought she loved me."

"She probably did. She loved a lot of people."

Weevil now seemed depressed. "I won't tell, V. But how you gonna find proof at this point?"

Good question.

As Weevil walked away, Wallace caught up with me and we started to walk into the school. He started to read from the day's paper: "...Since his removal from office, Keith Mars, the ousted sheriff, has tirelessly and single-handedly continued his own investigation, despite being shunned by the community at large."

"You'd think it might be gross to read a love letter to your Dad, but I kind of enjoy it."

"All I know," Wallace said, "Is if I were him right now, I'd be I-told-you-soing all over Neptune."

"That's certainly my plan."

"Hello, Ronnie," said a voice from in front of me.

I looked up. "Shouldn't you be at least 49 feet further away, Dick?" Dick, like everyone else, was carrying a newspaper.

"I'm going," he said. "Just letting you know that now that your Daddy proved that one guy didn't do it you can expect a whole lot of stuff coming down on Logan."

"Yeah," I said. "Beaver mentioned something like that."

His eyes narrowed. "His name was Cassidy."

"Not like we'd ever have known that from you," I said. "Now, shoo. Shoo. Get with the restraining order or I call Clemmons."

He walked away, but he yelled over his shoulder, "You'll get yours, Mars. You _and_ your boyfriend!" At least a dozen people heard him.

I turned to Wallace. "That was a good start to the day . . ."

Logan walked up. "What the hell was Dick Casablancas doing?"

"Threatening my life," I said. "Same old same old."

"Ah," he said. "Want me to go throw him into a wall?"

"Naah. He backed off." Frowning. "He did imply he was going to repeat that lie about you leaving Mexico early, though." Logan knew the deal was off the table, so Dick was either bluffing or, more likely, just planning to spread the story.

In neither case was he especially credible.

"Anyway," Logan said, "My mother has called a press conference for tonight after dinner. She'd like you to be there -- she's going to publicly congratulate your Dad."

"Is she going to mention her theory?"

"Yes. She told me and Trina about it already and she's calling your Dad this morning." That couldn't have made Trina happy.

"Dad will do his best to talk her out of it."

"He won't succeed," Logan said. "Once my mother has her mind set on something, she does it."

"What theory?" Wallace asked.

I felt guilty, especially after having told Weevil not ten minutes previously, but I said, "Not my theory to give out. Lynn kind of told us in confidence." In any event, I'd told Weevil to stop him from going off on Duncan.

Wallace looked hurt. "I'm sorry I asked." He turned to walk away.

"Wallace –" He looked back. "I realize I haven't exactly been the most forthcoming friend at times. I'm trying to change that, really. But this isn't something I'm not telling you just to be me. This is something I'm not telling you because I promised I wouldn't." Let him assume I'd made that promise to Lynn Echolls.

Logan confirmed this. "We really did."

I needed to call Clarence Weidman and see if our deal had come to an end. I might need to start showing people the Aaron-Lilly tape now that Abel Koontz had been cleared.

Wallace gave a half-hearted grin. "Okay, then. I guess I have to accept that." He still didn't seem happy as he walked away, bit he didn't seem betrayed either.

I turned to Logan. "We need to talk. Privately."

He said lasciviously as we made our way to my "office," "Talk?"

I said, "Yeah. Talk. I've got something to tell you that you're not going to like."

When we got into the restroom, I hung up the out of order sign and checked the stalls. "We may need to bring out the tape of Aaron and Lilly soon."

Sighing, he said, "I really don't want that to be the last memory people have of Lilly."

"Me neither. But that's not even the part you're not going to like."

"Go on."

"We've had that tape for months. How do we explain finding it now? I mean, by all rights we should have turned it over to the DA, the Sheriff – or at least shown it to my Dad."

"And with the poolhouse gone it's not like we can say we found it there," Logan said. "I mean, the only other tapes out there are the ones Vanessa Mencken has."

Oh boy. "That's not completely true."

He stopped pacing and looked at me. "It isn't?"

Deep breath. "No. I . . . kind of snuck a whole drawer out to my car while you weren't looking, before you burned them."

"You did what?" he shouted.

"I did it . . . actually, I have no idea why I did it," I said honestly. "I just thought that maybe, at some point in the future, they might be useful."

"Useful for what?" he practically hissed. "As an extra revenue stream?"

Now _that_ hurt. "You know me better than that."

He took a deep breath. "I do. But what the hell else am I supposed to think? Why would you hide these?"

"They might protect you. Or be able to point the finger more strongly at Aaron. I don't know," I said. "What I do know is, they give me the excuse I need to have suddenly 'found' the tape of Aaron and Lilly."

"Well. Then I'm glad you kept all those tapes of Daddy dearest screwing every woman in Neptune. Bully for you."

"Logan –"

"No. Not now. We'll talk later after I'd have time to process."

"This isn't a breakup, is it?"

"Quit being so melodramatic, Mars. Of course it isn't. But I'd like to get away from you for a while before I say something stupid enough to make it one." After a second, "The press conference is tonight at 7:30. Try to get there early."

Then he left, leaving me standing there trying not to cry.

And all of this before my first class.

It was Duncan's turn next. During the time we should have been in journalism, Duncan and I ended up in the library. "I'm glad Abel Koontz got off," Duncan said. "Really. But did your father have to make that payoff public?"

"He needed all the evidence he could muster," I said. "That was part of it."

"It just makes my father look like a criminal."

"Duncan," I said, "He paid off a guy to confess to a murder he didn't commit. He _is_ a criminal."

"Doesn't mean I want him to end up in jail," he said.

"Not up to me," I said. "Of course, with Lamb bought and paid for, it shouldn't be any problem for him to get off."

"I think I'm going to go sit elsewhere for the rest of the period.

Let's see: So far Wallace, Logan, Duncan. Who else could I piss off today?

I excused myself from the library and walked back into my 'office,' where I called Clarence Weidman – just asking him to please get back to me at his earliest opportunity – and then Cliff.

"Veronica," Cliff said. "Congratulate your Dad for me. That was a hell of a coup."

"I will."

"So, what do you need me to do?"

"I need access to that box of tapes, and I need it at around noon today."

"I have it at my house," he said. "It shouldn't be a problem; I don't have any court appearances scheduled." Then, after a second, "Does this have anything to do with your father's investigation?"

"You're better off not knowing," I said. "But if someone asks you if you had those tapes, tell them the truth."

"Why the change of heart?"

"You've heard Lynn Echolls called a press conference for tonight?" He said he had. "Show up and you'll see why."

"I will. See you at noon."

At lunch that day, I gobbled down the sandwich I brought with me and sought out Weevil. "I need a ride," I said.

"What's wrong with your car?"

"It tops out at around 65," I said. "Right now I feel the need for speed."

He grinned. "Always said you wanted to feel my big ol' hog between your legs," he said.

"At any other time I'd devastate you with my witty comeback, but I'm not up for it now," I said. "You in?"

"Sure thing, V."

First we went to my house to pick up the tapes, hiding them so Weevil wouldn't see; then over to Cliff's place. He was waiting just inside. "Hello, Eli," he said. "Veronica, the tapes are in my bedroom – right next to the bureau."

"Hey there, counselor. What's shakin'?" He looked at me with the word 'tapes," though.

They talked for another minute or so while I pretended to rummage through the drawer, then I came out, visibly holding them, and said, "Got 'em. Thanks, Cliff."

"This isn't going to get me in trouble, is it?" Cliff asked as Weevil and I turned to go.

"I won't let it," I said.

Then Weevil and I hauled ass back to school. I was fifteen minutes late for my post-lunch class, but all the teacher did was glare at me. There are some benefits to having a stellar academic rep.

I pulled Meg aside in the hall. "I hope you're not angry at me," I said.

"I'm dating Duncan," she said. "Our minds aren't joined as one. I understand why he's angry but I don't think he has any right to be."

"I need you to do something, and I need you not to ask me any questions."

"Seems fair; you're doing it for me."

I handed her the tapes. "Make three copies of this without watching it," I said.

"Okay," she said. "Anything else?"

"I need it by the end of the day."

"You'll have it."

"Thanks, Meg." It had been nice interacting with someone who wasn't pissed off for some reason or other.

The rest of the day, thankfully, went fairly well. Logan and Duncan avoided me and Wallace didn't seem too happy, but other than that, everything was just peachy.

Meg handed me the tapes just after lunch. I handed one to Wallace as he passed by and said, "Hide this but don't watch it." He grumbled but agreed. Mac agreed, a bit less grumblingly.

I drove home and hid the third copy where I'd hidden the original, then called Lynn Echolls.

"Veronica!" she said. She always sounded happy to hear from me. "I'm kind of busy right now preparing for tonight's conference –"

"That's what I wanted to talk to you about," I said. "I have something to show you before the conference." Yes, I was going to show this to Lynn. Let it be her call. "When's good?"

"I should be done dinner by about 6:30," she said. "You and your father can come by then."

Oh. Right. Now Dad was going to see it too.

Well, that was going to be peachy keen.

I flipped on the TV; the Balboa County District Attorney's Office was having a press conference. "We've examined all the evidence carefully," the DA was saying. "And it looks solid. We've started the paperwork to have Abel Koontz released from prison; he should be out by the end of the week."

From the crowd, one reporter said, "Are there any plans to look at the Kanes' involvement in this?"

"Current investigations are confidential, of course," the DA said. "Also –"

Then my cell phone rang. "Miss Mars," came the voice of Clarence Weidman. "I understand you wished to speak with me. As you can imagine, I've had quite a busy day."

"I can," I said. There was absolutely no percentage in taunting him now. "Have I lived up to my end of the agreement?"

"Within reason, yes."

"So if I were to come up with evidence now pointing towards Aaron Echolls and away from the Kane family, would you have any objection?"

"Now that Abel Koontz has been cleared, no." After a second, "I'd like to know about this evidence, though."

"You'll see it on the evening news along with everyone else," I said.

He laughed. He actually laughed. "I suppose that was a bit too much to expect. Have a good evening, Miss Mars."

Dad came home a little bit later. In the meantime, I'd showered and put on a clean outfit.

"I think I've talked to everyone in Official Neptune about this case," he said as he plopped down on the couch. "Except possibly for the dogcatcher."

"And our day's not done yet," I said. "We have to be at the Echolls' by 6:30."

"Sweetie, I'm not going to that press conference," he said. "I don't need the ego boost and Lynn Echolls can just mail me the check."

"Sorry, Dad," I said. "I ordered a Cho's special right before you walked in; it should be here in twenty minutes. That gives you enough time to shower and change before it gets here. Because you have to go."

He looked at me sternly. "I think you've forgotten which of us is the parent in this relationship." At my steady glare, he said, "Okay, sweetie. If it means that much to you, I'll go."

He changed, we gulped down the pizza and made it to Lynn's at 6:25. Logan greeted us at the door.

"Mr. Mars," he said, nodding to Dad. "Veronica. We just finished up dinner. Give Mom a minute or so and then you can show her." He clearly wasn't happy. I understood why but appreciated that he was still willing to do this.

"Show her what?" Dad asked.

"You'll see," I said.

Dad walked ahead of Logan and me. "Are we good yet?"

"Not quite," he said. "And don't start pouting. I'm not the one who screwed up here."

"I know. I also know how hard it's going to be for you to watch this."

"I don't plan to," he said. "I'll be in the room but I plan on closing my eyes."

"And sticking your fingers in your ears and going 'LALALALALA I can't hear you' at the top of your lungs?"

"If necessary."

Shortly thereafter, I asked Lynn if I could pop something in her VCR. She said, "This is what you wanted to show me?"

"Yes. I . . . found it today in a drawer full of videotapes that I kept from the poolhouse. Logan burned the rest."

"I know," she said. "I wish he hadn't." At my startled look, she said, "I'd've given those tapes to any woman who asked about them. Now that I have that drawer maybe I can make sure people see my husband for the monster he was."

You don't know the half of it, Lynn.

When Dad and Lynn were ready – Logan was standing there, grim as anything – I played the tape.

They knew what it was the second they saw Lilly's face. "Veronica," Dad said, "Where did you get this?"

"Remember when Logan burned those tapes we found in the poolhouse? I saved some of them."

"Why?"

I couldn't answer and then Lynn said, "I asked her to." Logan turned and looked sharply at his mother, knowing she'd done no such thing. "I wanted proof of how bad Aaron was," she said. "When Veronica mentioned it to me I asked her to let Logan burn most of them but to save some."

I took up the lie from there. "And lucky I saved the ones that I did. I didn't think to look through the drawer until today, but there it was. Weevil took me to where I've been hiding them at lunchtime. I played them at school today and there it was," I said. "Proof that Lynn's theory was true."

"Veronica –"

"Dad, if I could have brought this out any sooner, don't you think I would have?"

He nodded. "Yes. But still –"

"No time," Lynn said, then clapped her hands once. "Paolo! Maria!" Two of the servants came in. "Get whoever you need to help you and let's move the TV to the front porch. The press is going to want to see this."

Remember that Goldwyn quote from the beginning. You've seen the earthquake and the working its way up. Now for the climax:

55 minutes later, I looked out at the front yard of the Echolls estate. It was a mob scene. Half the population of Neptune must have been there. I saw Weevil, Clarence Weidman, Dick Casablancas, and Cliff, among many others.

Dad, Logan, and I were standing on the Echolls' front porch. When Lynn came out and stood behind a podium – about two or three feet in front of us – everything went silent. First she told people she'd been paying Dad to look into the Abel Koontz matter and praised him to the skies for being able to prove that Koontz didn't kill Lilly Kane, for which she was paying him $10,000. She handed it to him, and he pocketed it, looking a little embarrassed.

Then someone asked the obvious question, "Why?"

"Because I know who killed Lilly Kane," Lynn said.

Then she played the tape.

After a minute or so – enough to prove her point – there was dead silence. This is the point in those old Bugs Bunny cartoons where you start to hear crickets.

Then everyone started asking questions at once.

Lynn quieted them down and said, "Let me tell you a little something about Aaron Echolls."

And boy, did she ever. She held them spellbound for the next ten minutes while she spun a tale of multiple affairs, violent rages, repeated beatings – of her occasionally, of Logan regularly – and an absolutely fanatical dedication to his image. "And if that tape had gotten out," she said. "If that tape had gotten out –"

I leaned over and whispered to Logan, "Well, the good news is from here this has nowhere to go but less complicated."

And that's when I got shot.


	51. Chapter 51

Ask for a quick update and ye shall receive.

Disclaimer: Veronica Mars was created by Rob Thomas. While my first name is Rob, my last name, alas, is not Thomas.

X X X X X

I felt a sharp pain in my left shoulder and then I somehow fell to the porch.

I could hear people screaming and panicking.

Dad was yelling, "Get down!" to everyone. Why 'get down?' Just because I had this pain in my shoulder. Logan and Dad picked me up and carried me into the house -- I think I heard somewhere you're not supposed to move someone who's been hurt so why were they moving me?

Lynn was already there and they put me down on her couch. I tried to get up and Dad said, "No, sweetie. Get down."

"I've already called 911," Lynn said.

"Did anyone see anything?" Dad said.

Everyone said no.

"What happened?" I asked.

"Somebody shot you, sweetie."

Somebody shot me?

Trina, out of breath, came rushing up from somewhere in the depths of the house. "Anything I can do?"

"Stay out of the way," Logan said.

"Go outside and see if you can find a doctor," Dad said. Trina did.

He then came over and ripped open my blouse, and started pressing on my shoulder. "Ow!" I said.

"Sorry, sweetie. I'm trying to keep the wound from bleeding."

"Did it go through?" Logan asked.

"No."

"No doctors," Trina said. "But --"

"Mr. Mars," a voice came, "I have paramedic training."

"Take over, then," Dad said.

Then I saw Clarence Weidman leaning over me. "You're in good hands, Miss Mars."

That's the last thing I remember for a while.

X X X X X

When I woke up, my left shoulder felt sore and I had no idea where I was.

Then I remembered. Someone had shot me!

"Daddy?"

"I'm here, sweetheart."

I turned to my left and saw Dad sitting in a chair. "Who did this?"

He closed his eyes and chuckled. "Leave it to you. Almost everyone else would be asking what happened, how am I, things like that. Not you. You jump right to the big question."

"And the answer is?"

"They don't know."

"What do they know?"

"You were shot with a .22 caliber rifle. It hit you in the left shoulder and the bullet stayed there. No serious bone damage. You lost some blood and you'll have some muscle weakness in that area for a while."

"So no heavy lifting?"

"And also no driving."

"What else?"

"They found the rifle -- it was back towards the far edge of the Echolls estate. From where we were standing, the left edge. A couple of hundred feet away." He laughed again, but this time the laugh was bitter. "You know who found the rifle? Eli Navarro. He heard the shot and guessed where it was from, but by the time he forced his way through the crowd the shooter was long gone."

"He didn't touch it, did he?"

"He says not."

"Tell me that wasn't Clarence Weidman I saw standing over me right before I passed out."

"Okay, that wasn't Clarence Weidman you saw standing over you right before you passed out."

"You're a lousy liar."

"I know."

He stood up. "How are you feeling?"

"Not as bad as I would have thought."

"That's the pain medication talking."

"Gee, give me something to look forward to when it wears off." I yawned. "What time is it?"

"It's about 2 in the morning. Same night. I'm going to go tell the doctor and everyone else you're awake."

"Everyone?"

"Logan, Lynn, Mac, Wallace, Duncan. Eli and Meg were both here but they had to leave. I think Eli has some idea he's going to find who shot you. And Meg's parents made her leave at 10."

"If it's a choice between Weevil and Lamb," I said, yawning again, "I'll bet on Weevil."

He came over and very gently hugged me, then kissed my cheek. "I'm so glad you're okay, sweetie. Now try to get some sleep."

"I can do that," I said, and promptly did.

X X X X X

The next time I woke up, my shoulder hurt like hell, it was the next morning and Dad wasn't there.

A nurse was leaning over me – pretty, Hispanic, maybe 35. "How are you feeling?" she asked. Her name badge read, "Cora."

"Like I was in a bar fight with an angry pro wrestler," I said.

"The pain medicine must be wearing off," Cora said, looking at my chart. "It's not too long before you get another dose."

"That's good. I think I could use it."

"The doctor wants to talk to you and there's someone out in the waiting area who's been waiting for you to wake up," she said.

"Do you have any idea when I'm going to get out of here?"

She laughed. "They always ask that, and I always have to give the same answer."

"'As soon as you give me enough bribe money?'"

This time Cora's laugh was even longer. "No. 'It's up to the doctor.'"

"Could I bribe her?"

She shrugged. "Probably not. She's pretty dedicated."

"Damn. Just my luck to run into an honest doctor."

Another laugh. "I'll go get your friend and Dr. London."

Dad had left the book I'd been reading on the table to my right. I picked it up and had gotten through maybe a page when I heard a knock on the door.

I looked up and smiled. "Logan."

He nodded, "Veronica." Then he walked swiftly across the room and kissed me. "Thank God you're okay."

Then he kissed me again. The second kiss was substantially deeper. When he pulled away I murmured, "I guess this means I'm forgiven?"

He chuckled in that way that only he could, amused and sexy at the same time. "You could say that."

"Is anybody else here?"

"Everyone else is at school," he said. "Except for my Mom. She's down at the Sheriff's. Somehow she's gotten herself dragged into two cases now."

"I assume she turned over the tapes?"

"Sometime during the night," he said.

"Did you or she see anything?"

He frowned. "You're not going after this person. Much as I hate to say this, leave this to Lamb." He laughed. "That way if someone else gets shot, it's going to be him."

"Not disliking that aspect," I said. "I have no plans to go chasing after an armed lunatic," I lied. "I'd just like to know for my own curiosity."

"All I did was hear the shot, pick you up and run. My dear mother didn't see anything either."

"Trina?"

"Trina was sulking in the house, by her own admission. She heard the shot but didn't see anything."

"400 people in your front yard and not a single one notices the guy with the rifle."

"At the time everyone was watching my mother," he said. "Quite a compelling speaker when she wants to be, that one. I'm sure she had everyone convinced that my father had killed Lilly."

"Did that even make the papers?"

"Oh yes. Sidebar story, but yes. This is national news. 'Girl Shot at Echolls Press Conference.' 'Widow Accuses Aaron Echolls of Murder.' There are reporters camped outside the hospital, the estate, and the sheriff's office. And I'm talking people you've heard of. Trina's been downplaying everything like only Trina can do, but so far no one else except your doctor and Don Lamb have been talking." He grimaced. "That's probably what's taking the bitch so long – she's out there sucking up to Robin Roberts, or something."

Oh, _great_. Just what I needed. More harassment from the press.

"Actually, the bitch is right behind you." I looked around Logan and saw a tall gray-haired woman who looked to be somewhere in her 50s.

"Dr. London, right?" I asked.

"Right," she said, not smiling. "The bitch was actually answering as many questions as she could to stop people from trying to sneak in here, which would have both disturbed Miss Mars and the operations of my hospital. But the bitch is selfish like that."

I _liked_ this woman.

"Um –"

"Logan, remove the foot from your mouth, apologize to the lady, and let her do her job."

He muttered, "Sorry." Then he gave me another quick kiss. "I'll be right outside."

Dr. London came over to my bedside. "He was just sticking up for me, you know."

Now she smiled. "I know. It's good to have people like that around after an incident like this. But he still needed to be told he was wrong about me." Then her voice turned clinical. "And how's your shoulder feeling?"

"Like an elephant stepped on it," I said.

"That's about par for the course, I'm afraid," Dr. London said. "All things considered you were extremely lucky that the bullet hit you where it did."

"Oh yes," I said. "I feel tremendously lucky that somebody tried to kill me."

"They failed," Dr. London said. "Not only that, if you had to pick a spot for a bullet to hit you you couldn't have picked a much better one. It missed your vital organs – an inch down and to the right and it would have gone through your esophagus. It nicked your collarbone and one of your ribs, but that should heal up fairly quickly. The only real damage it did was to your skin and muscle tissue." She looked at me. "Try raising your left arm. Stop when the pain becomes intolerable."

I did so and stopped when it was only a few inches off the bed. I just couldn't lift it any further.

"Hold on a second." She left the room and came back with Cora. "We're going to get you in a sitting position now. If you do this yourself, you have to remember not to lean on your left arm. Also, what side do you normally sleep on?"

"My left."

"You're going to have to train yourself to sleep on your right, your back, or your stomach for a while. Now, come on, let's sit you up."

I didn't really need the help, but I let them move me to where I was sitting on the edge of the bed.

"Now, extend your left arm and try raising it again," Dr. London said.

I couldn't get it to the level of my shoulder. Even moving it at all was excruciating,

"Can I have some of that pain medication again?" I said.

"As soon as we're done," she said. "I want you to understand the extent of your injury. When you're on the pain medication things might feel better and I don't want you pressing the arm to do too much before you're ready."

"I understand," I said. "Really. I do." After a second, "So how long will it before I get out of here?"

"A couple of more days," she said. "After we make sure there's no lingering damage."

A couple of _days_?

X X X X X

Dr. London hadn't been lying. It was Friday morning before they were ready to release me.

Everyone had come by in the interim. Of Logan and Dad, one of the two was always there. Then Lynn, Mac, Wallace, Weevil, Meg, Duncan, and even Cliff, Clemons, Ms. Stafford, and to my astonishment, Clarence Weidman.

The words practically stuck in my throat as I said them, but I managed to thank him for what he'd done.

He nodded and said, "You're welcome, Miss Mars. I wish I would have seen who did it."

"How do I know it wasn't you?" I asked half-seriously.

"Two reasons," he said. "Because I have no reason to harm you – and because, if I had, I wouldn't have missed."

Which was very likely true, unless he wanted to teach me a lesson somehow.

But what lesson? "Keep faith with me and I'll shoot you in the shoulder?"

No. Not saying it couldn't have been him, but he was on my back burner list of suspects.

Dad also told me that the rifle they'd found had been wiped clean of fingerprints. Not that I was expecting anything else.

On that Friday morning, I asked Logan about the press. Dad was getting last-minute instructions from Dr. London on the care and feeding of wounded Veronicas.

"Still out there," he said. "Mother's been continuing her assault against Daddy Dearest to anyone who'll listen – and a lot of people are listening. She's been on Larry King, Fox News, and the Today Show. She's also promised a $50,000 reward to anyone who helps the police find out who shot you. So far our beloved Sheriff's Department hasn't come up with a viable suspect."

"See, that's where you're wrong," a voice came from being him.

Logan whirled and confronted Don Lamb. "Am I going to have to get eyes installed in the back of my head?"

"What do you mean, he's wrong?" I asked.

"We just arrested someone this morning and I thought you'd want to know," he said. "And I don't think this time your Dad'll have someone calling press conferences to show us what fools we are."

"Who did you arrest?" Logan asked tightly.

"Dick Casablancas," Lamb said. "The younger one."

That couldn't have been right. I'm not saying Dick didn't want to do me harm –

But right when I'd leaned over to whisper to Logan, I'd been looking directly at Dick Casablancas.

He'd shot me a look of pure hatred.

He had _not_ been carrying a gun.


	52. Chapter 52

We are entering the timeframe of Hot Dogs here. As you can imagine, it will be severely altered.

I didn't see Mandy's last name anywhere in the episode, so I've assigned her one. If she does have a last name, please someone tell me and I will restore it.

Disclaimer: Rob Thomas created Veronica Mars. I created this fanfiction.

X X X X X

Unfortunately, I couldn't collect my thoughts quickly enough to let Lamb know this; he simply smirked and left the room.

"Well," Logan said. "That's hardly -- Veronica? What is it?"

I finally found my voice. "It wasn't Dick."

Logan looked at me like I'd been speaking Swahili. "What are you talking about?"

I laughed a bit bitterly. "Trust me, I haven't gone crazy and I haven't suddenly developed a liking for Little Dick. But remember when I was shot?"

"I don't think I'll ever forget it," he said.

"Well, when I was whispering to you I was looking right at Dick Casablancas. He wasn't carrying a gun and he was at the wrong angle even if he had been."

Logan said, "You're serious."

"What, you're saying it surprises you that the Neptune Sheriff's Department arrested the wrong person?"

"Of course not," he said. "It's just that he hates your guts, he threatened you publicly, and he knows how to use a rifle." I looked questioningly at him. "Big Dick hunts. He and Dad went on some trips together and dragged their children along. Dick loved it." After a second, "Dad, of course, just liked being able to hurt things legally. Not like 'legal' stopped him, apparently."

"I know," I said. "Motive, means, opportunity. But he didn't do it."

"Then who did?"

And that was the $64,000 question.

X X X X X

Logan saw me off at the hospital parking lot with a quick kiss, after which he went back to school. I made him promise not to spread my belief in Dick's innocence around until I had time to talk about it with my Dad.

"You sure you understood all the doctor's instructions, Veronica?"

I rolled my eyes. "Take the pain medication regularly; don't stress the areas of the wound; don't lift anything heavier than a paperback book with my left arm until she gives the go-ahead; don't sleep on my left side; don't drive. Anything else."

"Yeah," he said. "Don't get shot again. Damn, Veronica, you have no idea how scared I was."

I said mildly, "Well, it's not like I planned on it."

"True. And anyway, they have the Casablancas kid in jail, so there's no worries there."

Taking a deep breath, I said, "Actually, Dad --"

"Actually, Dad, what?"

"Dick Casablancas didn't shoot me. In fact, of everyone who was there I know four people who didn't: You, Logan, Lynn, and Dick Casablancas."

"Oh, Veronica." And then I explained it to Dad. After I was done, he said, "Are you sure about this?"

"Of course I am. I wouldn't stick up for that jackass without a really good reason. I'm guessing Lamb did his usual half-assed job: Found out that Dick had threatened me in school on Tuesday, decided he'd taken the shot, and tried to find evidence backing the theory he'd already come up with."

Dad shook his head. "And, of course, with Lynn Echolls leaning on the Balboa County DA it's not like Big Dick's money will do anything more than guarantee his son a fair trial." Laughing humorlessly, he said, "You realize what you're going to have to do."

"Tell Lamb?" I said. When Dad said yes, I said, "I'd like to try a different angle first."

"You're not investigating this yourself." It wasn't a question.

"Of course not," I lied. "But our beloved Sheriff isn't likely to be in a mood to listen to anything we say after the public embarassment you handed him on Tuesday."

"True. So what's your idea?"

"Who's defending little Dick?"

"Same person who was defending him on the other charges," Dad said. "Guy named Larry Holtz."

I'd never heard of Holtz before, which made it a safe bet he wasn't a Neptune lawyer. "Any chance maybe Cliff could get me in to see him?"

Dad's eyebrows raised. "Not bad, Veronica. The sight of a victim known to loathe the defendant voluntarily showing up on his witness list should be enough to give Lamb and the Balboa County DA second thoughts."

"That's my idea," I said. "Let this Holtz guy hash it out with Neptune officialdom while I'm at home relaxing on the sofa." After a second, "If I can change the subject, did the tape I found get Lynn Echolls to give you money?"

"No," he said, "And I didn't expect it to. I'm also still not entirely convinced of your story of how you found that thing."

"You can ask Cliff," I said.

"Cliff?"

"He's been hiding the drawer for me for a couple of months."

"Really."

"So why didn't Lynn give you the money?" I asked

Dad sighed. "Because the Neptune Sheriff's Office has yet to release a statement saying they're convinced Aaron Echolls did it." After a pause, "Public opinion's running about 60-40 in her favor, though. A couple of the other women Aaron had affairs with also came out and publicly spoke about his temper and his need to keep their affairs quiet, but Trina Echolls and a couple of his co-stars have spoken out on Aaron's behalf."

"I'm guessing Lynn's kicked Trina to the curb, then."

"Not to my knowledge." That startled me. Either Lynn loved her stepdaughter more than I thought or she was fanatically devoted to the concept of free speech.

And we were home. I unbuckled myself and got out of the car. A couple of times I had to fight urges to lean on my left arm.

Dad raced around the car to help me, but I waved him off. "I'm not helpless, Dad."

"Yes, but you're not full-strength, either. You're off active duty at the moment. Any Neptune wives think their husbands are cheating on them down at the Camelot, I'll be taking the pictures." At my hurt look, he said, "This is for your own safety, sweetie."

"I know," I said. "Being on the DL kind of stinks."

"Well, you can still research and answer the phones."

"Oh, goody. The fun parts."

Dad made sure I was settled in -- I'd head back to school on Monday -- and left to get to work. I promised to call him if I felt so much as an errant twinge.

Then I picked up my _Buffy _season 6 DVD. When I'd broken off, I'd entered what was usually considered to be the "dead period" of the season -- the place between "Doublemeat Palace" and "Hell's Bells." Not my favorite section either, but it had its moments. I flipped on "Older and Far Away" and settled in for a period of _Buffy_-watching.

Somewhere along the way, I fell asleep. Dr. London had told me I'd develop a resistance to that particular side effect of my medication, but it hadn't happened yet. In my muddled half-asleep thinking, I somehow conflated the shooting and its immediate aftermath with _Buffy _season 6. It didn't hurt that Trina bore something of a resemblance to Alyson Hannigan, either, but seeing Logan as Spike and Lynn as Dawn was something else entirely. When I woke up I was shouting the phrase "She came back wrong!" -- a key phrase from that season of _Buffy -- _and was utterly convinced that it had something to do with the attempt on my life.

I had no idea how, or what. My subconscious wasn't talking to me now that I was fully awake again. It meant something; I just needed to figure out what . . .

X X X X X

Everyone came by after school. Wallace brought me a general update on my schoolwork, Meg brought me cookies, Mac brought me the news from the Neptune High Forums, Duncan brought me an apology (for his behavior on Tuesday), and Logan tried to bring me love, affection, and sex but was thwarted in the latter by Wallace, Meg, Mac, and Duncan.

Involuntarily, of course, but I'm sure much to my father's relief.

The schoolwork was more a "what's coming" than anything else, as they weren't about to assign me homework when I was lying in the hospital; the cookies were delicious (what _can't_ Meg do well?); Dick's guilt was pretty much universally assumed; and the apology was immediately and cheerfully accepted.

The love, affection, and sex would have to wait. Besides, I wasn't so sure how up I would be for the latter at this point.

I took the weekend easy as well, on Dr. London's orders. I did get to walk out to the beach while Dad walked Backup, but that was about it. Dad called Cliff and got him to arrange a meeting with Larry Holtz sometime the following week with "someone who could give them information to clear Dick Casablancas of the attempted murder of Veronica Mars." Mr. Holtz agreed to meet us at Cliff's office. For obvious reasons we didn't want to tell Mr. Holtz who we were ahead of time.

Logan dropped by but the amount of time we spent alone was strictly limited. A couple of kisses here and there was about all we managed to sneak in.

Ah well. At least, over the weekend, I stopped falling asleep in my oatmeal.

On Monday morning, Logan came to pick me up; Dad would be picking me up after school and taking me to meet Larry Holtz.

When we got to school, Logan and I did manage to steal five minutes for serious making out -- though we actually had to move to the back seat to do so, becasue otherwise he would have been leaning heavily against my left shoulder.

"I've been looking forward to that for a while," he said.

"Me too," I said. "That may have to be it until the stiches come out, unless you want to explain how it is every time I see you my shoulder ends up ripped open."

"I'll be creative," he said.

Oooh. I like creative.

I think I had more people come up to me that day and ask me how I was doing than I did after it came out that I'd been raped. No one actually clapped me on the shoulder, though Caz Truman seemed to think it would be funny to pretend to do so.

At least, he did until Logan slammed him up against a locker. "Not even as a joke, Caz," he said.

Caz gave him a dirty look and stalked off.

Dick Casablancas, even though he'd paid his bail, was nowhere to be seen. His father was having him tutored privately until his trials were over. Smart man, Richard Casablancas Sr. At this point Dick was as popular as anthrax.

Down the hall, I noticed Mandy Klein putting up lost dog notices. Someone had, hilariously, put one on her back. Logan and I walked up and Logan pulled it off.

"Sorry," I said. "But this was on your . . ."

"Thanks." After a second, "Veronica Mars, right?"

"Sometimes."

"I realize you were shot and all and you may yell at me for asking you this, but could you help me find my dog? I--I'll hire you."

From most people in the school, this would have been insensitive. From Mandy, it came off like someone who desperately missed her dog. I almost said no, but it would have been like kicking a kitten.

Still, the amount of heavy legwork I could do at the moment was limited.

Then I had a thought. I pointed to my shoulder and said, "I can't right now."

"Oh," she said sadly. "Thanks anyways."

I shook my head. "You didn't let me finish, Mandy. Come see me at lunch."

As we walked off, Logan asked, "What are you thinking?"

"You'll see," I said.

When Mandy came by my table at lunch, I was sitting with Wallace, Meg, and Logan. "Mandy!" I said. "I would like to introduce you to my friend Wallace -- you've already met Logan --" She smiled at both of them -- "And this is my assistant, Meg. Meg will be happy to look for your dog."

"What?" Meg said.

"Oh, thank you!" Mandy said. "When can we meet?"

"Um -- we can talk for a few minutes right now -- just give me a second," she said. Mandy ran off. Turning towards me, Meg said, "Why did you do that?"

"You wanted to see how good you were after my lessons," I said. "Now's your chance. I'm not throwing you out there without help; call me, ask me questions, whatever. But it's your case."

"Alright," Meg said. "You think I can do this?"

"Only one way to find out."

Thinking aloud, she said, "So how do I explain this to my parents . . . I know. I'm looking into it as a news story. I'll say I'm doing a special investigative report --"

"Good start," I said. "Now go see what you can get from Mandy."

Logan and Wallace looked at me. "Makes sense, really," I said.

"It does," Logan said. "So how didn't I see it coming?"

Wallace laughed and said, "This is Veronica Mars here. You _never_ see her coming."

Not necessarily true, but not a bad reputation to have, either.

Nest thing to do: Get the charge of attempted murder removed against Dick Casablancas.

Then find out who the hell actually had shot at me.

So far the only thing I had to go on was a half-remembered Buffy-addled thought: "She came back wrong."

Hell, I've done harder.


	53. Chapter 53

Still in "Hot Dogs." Let's see how Meg handles it . . . And how Veronica handles a few other things.

Disclaimer: I do not own _Veronica Mars_. Veronica Mars does not own me, either. But after seeing the cover of the most recent issue of _Shape_, I'm willing to talk things over with Kristen Bell . . .

X X X X X

As I walked out in the afternoon, Meg caught up with me.

"What do you have so far?" I asked.

"Mandy was babysitting at the McDades when it happened -- they let her bring Chester along. After Ryder fell asleep, she heard Chester barking and was going out to check on him when she heard him yelp once and then nothing." She paused, then. "I've been talking to people -- there are a few other cases of missing dogs. Some were returned and some weren't."

"Any pattern there?"

"Not a big enough statistical sample," she said. "Only four cases not counting Mandy. But the two dogs that were found were both '09er dogs."

"Hmmm. You're right, that's not a big enough sample." It was interesting, though. Let's see if Meg followed up on it.

"I'm going with Mandy to check the pound -- maybe Chester just ran away."

"You don't sound convinced."

"Not with a single yelp and then silence, no. But it can't hurt. Maybe someone just thought it was a funny prank to take someone's dog and cut it loose on the streets."

"Yes, because as a prank that would be hilarious."

"Some people can be real jerks."

"Any other possible leads?"

"Well, I told you the sample wasn't big enough," she said. "I'm going to look around town and see if I see any other lost dog notices and maybe I'll call those people too." Bingo! Good start, Meg.

"Sounds like you're doing well so far," I said. "Keep it up."

She smiled. "You really think so?"

"Yup. You might want to make sure you check the obvious spots -- animal shelters, public bulletin boards, and so on, rather than just wandering the streets, but otherwise, you're right on track."

"Yay!" she said. "Thanks for letting me do this, Ronniekins." Then we were at the parking lot and Dad was waiting for me.

"I told you to stop calling me that."

"I know." She grinned wickedly. "But remember, I want to be you when I grow up. And you don't do everything you're told either."

"I'm thinking of changing my attitude on that!" I called after her as she ran off.

X X X X X

Dad and I were waiting in Cliff's office when Larry Holtz walked in. Mr. Holtz wasn't what I expected -- I was expecting someone gray-haired and distinguished, the kind of person you'd expect to represent a shark like Big Dick Casablancas, and instead I got a surfer dude in a three-piece suit. Blond, muscular, tan, good-looking, the works.

Of course, looks weren't everything. Mr. Holtz slammed on the brakes as soon as he saw me. "Mr. McCormack," he said, "You've brought me down here under false pretenses. You said you had a witness that would clear my client." He looked at me and my father. "I'm not going to help you make the case against my client any stronger."

"I didn't lie, Mr. Holtz," Cliff said.

"Really?" Mr. Holtz said. "Unless you have someone hiding under the desk -- which wouldn't surprise me -- I don't see any potential witnesses. Just an alleged victim --"

"Nothing alleged about the bullet through my shoulder," I said.

"Right," Mr. Holtz said. "Lawyerspeak. Sorry." He sounded at least somewhat sorry, too, to my astonishment. "Just the victim," he emended, "And her father."

I sighed. "I'm the witness, Mr. Holtz."

"Really." He clearly didn't believe me. Well, I wouldn't have, either.

"Really," Cliff said. "And in any event, what does it hurt to sit and listen?"

"Nothing, I guess," he said, sitting in the chair by the side of the room. "So, Miss Mars. Astonish me."

"Your client didn't try to shoot me," I said.

"And you know this because?"

"Because I was looking directly at him at the time I was shot," I said. I repeated the description of the event I'd given to Dad and Logan already -- Cliff had gotten an abbreviated version from Dad -- and when I finished Larry Holtz looked thoughtful.

"Why are you doing this?" he asked, not hostilely. "From the descriptions given to me by -- both -- younger members of the Casablancas family, it surprises me that you'd stick up for them."

"I'm not," I said. "But he didn't shoot me. And while I won't mind seeing him thrown in jail on the false imprisonment charge, I can't let him get in trouble for something he didn't do." After a second, "Besides, as long as they have the wrong person in jail, they won't go looking for the right one." I leaned forward.

Mr. Holtz thought for a second. "Very well, Miss Mars," he said. "Having the victim, known to hate the defendant's guts, on my witness list, should be a lot of help clearing the younger Mr. Casablancas. Would you be willing to write a formal statement confirming the story you just told me?"

As Cliff said, "Yes," I said, "On two conditions."

Cliff and Dad looked at me sharply -- I hadn't said anything about this to either of them -- but neither said anything. "And those are?" Mr. Holtz asked.

"One, he agrees to extend the temporary restraining order until the matter of the false imprisonment charges is settled."

Mr. Holtz said, "Agreed."

"And the second," I said, taking a deep breath, "Is that he agrees to stop repeating his lie about Logan having left Tijuana early the day of Lilly Kane's murder."

Dad practically erupted out of his seat at that one. "Veronica --" he said.

I turned to him and said, "Later. Please?"

He realized that the middle of the meeting was no time to give me holy hell, but I knew I could look forward to it as soon as we got to the car. He sat back down. "Well, Mr. Holtz?" Cliff asked. Gotta love Cliff. He'd just been handed as big a shock as Dad had and he was responding as though he'd just been given the weather report.

"The first one, like I said, is no problem. The second one's likely to be a lot harder."

"Get back to me once you've convinced him," I said.

"I could just subpoena you, you know," Mr. Holtz said. Once again, he didn't seem like he was being hostile.

Borrowing a page from Meg's playbook, I said, "'Gee, Mr. Holtz. I don't remember what happened when I was shot. I was too busy bleeding." I giggled a bit.

"So you're going to go that route?" he said.

"I'd rather not," I said. "Believe me. But I'm tired of the Casablancas' lies."

He nodded, "Understandably." he looked at Cliff. "Mr. McCormack. I'll contact you once I've worked things out with my client one way or the other."

Cliff agreed, and Larry Holtz left.

Dad then turned to Cliff and asked him about the bureau of tapes. At my slight nod, Cliff told the absolute truth: That I'd stored the tapes with him for months, and that the Monday of Lynn Echolls' press conference I'd come in, looked through the door, and taken the Lilly Kane tapes with me. We thanked Cliff for his time and walked to the car.

Dad made sure I was buckled up before he started with a deceptively mild, "So, Veronica, when were you going to tell me about these lies?"

"When I had to," I said. This was going to be a very dangerous conversation to navigate. I hated lying to my father, and Dad was adept at picking out when people where lying. And he knew me better than anyone.

"Well, before you tried to bargain with the truth would have been nice!" he said.

"All I did was make it clear that if Dick Casablancas kept saying that about Logan, then maybe I wouldn't be able to remember certain things," I said. "Look, Dad. Beaver pitched this back to me way back right after he and Dick tried to abscond with Logan. I didn't accept it then and I didn't accept it when Dick implied it when he threatened me the day of Lynn's press conference." I sighed. "But if they'd pushed that story to the DA, maybe the DA would have bought it -- or at least, used it against Logan. And I wasn't going to let that happen."

"I still can't believe you'd plan to lie on the witness stand, Veronica."

"I wouldn't," I said. I meant it. "I'm bluffing. If Mr. Holtz comes back and tells me that little Dick told me to take a flying leap -- bad metaphor, sorry -- on the second condition, I'll accept it." After trying again to bluff, but I wasn't telling Dad that now. "You know me better than that, Dad. I wouldn't lie under oath. You raised me better than that." After a second. "You also raised me to use every weapon at my disposal to bring down the bad guys."

There was a period of silence, after which Dad said, "So why didn't you tell me about this earlier?"

"You tell me."

"Because you knew," he said, "That if I knew that there was even an outside chance that Logan's alibi wouldn't hold up, I would have insisted you stop seeing him. And you didn't want to do that."

"Exactly." It was the truth and nothing but the truth. It wasn't the whole truth, but two out of three weren't bad.

He sighed. "Try not to blindside me like that again, will you, sweetie?" That was the sign that I'd convinced him right there.

Yay.

That I was now able to successfully lie to my father was an evolution of my abilities as an investigator; but jumping up and down and cheering? Not in my immediate plans.

X X X X X

Logan had claimed the night; it was going to be the first time we'd had the chance to be alone in a week. We were going out to dinner followed by some 'quality time' spent at the Echolls estate.

Or so I thought until, once I got in the car, he kissed me and said, "Change of plans."

"I am not going back to your place for an evening of lustful and wild abandon," I said. "Oh, okay, you talked me into it."

Logan sighed. "You're right. We're not." He laughed. "We are, instead, going back to the Echolls estate so my mother can have a really nice gourmet meal prepared for you and apologize for anything she might have had to do with what happened to you."

"You're kidding." He wasn't. "She had nothing to do with it," I said. "She didn't even know about the tape until I -- got there . . ."

"What is it?"

"Hold on." I pulled out my cell phone and made a call. "Hi, Lynn," I said. "No, it's fine. Look, I have a question. Do you have a copy of the announcement you made about your press conference last Tuesday?" She did. "Good. Could I see it when I get there? Thanks. See you in a few."

"What's up?" Logan asked.

"I'll let you know when I see that press release," I said. "It could be nothing."

We got there about ten minutes later. "Hi, Veronica!" she said, giving me a very gentle hug. "How're you feeling?"

"Not bad," I said. "And thanks for the meal."

"Oh, you're welcome," she said. "Have you ever had roast goose?" I said no. "Well, then, you're in for a treat. Mario prepares the best poultry on the planet." Then she leaned in and said, "Don't worry. I know you and Logan would rather have some time alone. So when we're done, I'll be going out for a while." '

I had no idea what to say to that, so I didn't say anything, instead asking, "Do you have the announcement?"

She went over to a nearby table. "Right here." She handed it to me and I read it.

I'd been right.

"I recognize that look," Logan said. "What did you find?"

I handed it to him. He read, "Lynn Echolls, widow of the late Aaron Echolls, will be holding a press conference to congratulate Keith Mars for clearing Abel Koontz in the death of Lilly Kane. She will also be explaining, for the first time, her reasons for hiring Mr. Mars to do so." After he stopped, he looked at me. "I don't get it."

"Where's my name?"

He looked down and said, "Son of a bitch."

"What is it?" Lynn asked.

"A rifle," I said. "Is not something anybody casually carries around. Whoever took that shot planned it." Lynn nodded; she was with me so far. "And _no one knew I was going to be out there._ I was surprised when you motioned for me to come out on your front porch while you held the conference." She was still following along. "So whoever took that shot _wasn't shooting at me._"

"Oh my God." They were either trying to kill me . . ."

I finished her sentence. "Or my father."


	54. Chapter 54

Still in "Hot Dogs." We may be here a while.

Also: Thanks, thanks, once again to all the regular readers and reviewers.

Disclaimer: I did not create Veronica Mars. I didn't create that picture of Kristen Bell on the cover of _Shape_, either, but I like that, too.

Okay, so I'm male. Shoot me.

X X X X X

As you might imagine, the rest of the evening more or less provided the dictionary definition of the word "anticlimax."

The goose was delicious, I guess, but for all the attention we paid to it Lynn might as well have ordered KFC. We spent most of the discussion trying to figure out who might have a motive for shooting her.

Aaron Echolls fans headed the list; as did those women Aaron had had affairs with. Some of them might have been just obsessed enough to do something to Lynn if she badmouthed him.

Again, you ran into the "who knew" problem. Lynn didn't exactly broadcast her intentions. The only people who knew were me, Logan, Dad . . .

And Trina.

Well, hell, I wouldn't have put it past Trina once she found out about it to spread the word, though I can't imagine her encouraging people to kill her stepmother. "Is Trina around?" I asked.

Lynn said she wasn't; she was talking to a radio talk show about "her stepmother's wild allegations."

"When she gets back, could you have her call me?"

"Of course."

"Here's another question," I said. "Why are you still letting her stay here?"

"Because she's family," Lynn said. "She's free to spread her opinions about Aaron all she wants. I've got the evidence on my side." Plus, Lynn could actually act; I remembered the performance she'd put on at the press conference. Right before I'd gotten shot, she had the audience pretty much spellbound. She likely could have told them that Aaron Echolls had been involved in the plot to shoot JFK and they would have gone along with it.

All Trina had, by comparison, was earnestness and an absolute conviction that her father was a good man. It was no contest.

As for Logan's and my "alone time," it was a complete bust. Neither Logan nor I was especially interested in trying new sexual positions when there was a chance someone might be trying to kill one of our parents. We talked for a while and then he drove me home.

Dad looked at me as I came in. "You're home early."

"I have a good reason."

He looked concerned. "Did you and Logan have some kind of fight?"

"No." I'd debated with myself all the way home how much I wanted to tell Dad, then decided on "everything." I wasn't going to let him go wandering out there when there might be someone trying to kill him.

Besides, finding out that I could now effortlessly lie to him and get away with it didn't meant that that was something I wanted to do on a regular basis.

"I was thinking about the shooting," I said, and before Dad could interrupt I said, "_Just_ thinking. Nothing's going to stop me from doing that." After a moment, Dad nodded. He understood. "So I asked Lynn to give me a copy of the announcement for her press conference last Tuesday.

I handed it to Dad and said, "See if you get out of it what I get out of it."

It took him less than twenty seconds. "There's way no one could have known you or Logan were going to be out there. Either Lynn or I was the target."

"A rifle is not an impulse weapon," I said. "So who have you pissed off recently? I mean, besides the Kane family, the Balboa County DA and Sheriff's Department?" Duncan wouldn't have done this; Deputy Leo was too nice a guy; and Clarence Weidman was right. He wouldn't have missed, no matter who he'd been shooting at.

"I'm a PI and former Sheriff. I think the list of people I _haven't_ pissed off is shorter than the other one." Then his face got serious. "And you're not to talk to any of them."

I held out my right hand. "Whoa, Dad. No plans," I lied. "It came up purely by accident. But like I said. I'm not going to stop _thinking_ about who might be trying to kill people I care about."

"You care about Lynn Echolls?"

"She's a good person," I said. "She's helped me, helped you, and she's my boyfriend's mother. I can't call her my best friend, but yeah, I do."

Dad smiled. "She's made your list, isn't she?"

"My list?"

"You may not notice it, but you have a list of people you care about. People who you absolutely will not anyone else mess with. At the beginning of the year that list was down to one. Me. And now look at it: Logan, Duncan, Meg, Mac, Wallace, Weevil – although that one still concerns me a bit – and now Lynn." He shook his head. "What happened to you over that year, sweetie – I know it was an emotional hell. I worried for a while that you'd never be able to let anyone in again."

"You can thank Wallace and Meg for most of that," I said. Damn, how different would life have been if I'd told Wallace to take off way back in September after he sat down in my table?

I didn't want to think about it.

"So the thing is, honey, I understand why you want to think about who might want to hurt her. Or me. Just make sure that's all you do."

I nodded and went into my room.

X X X X X

The next morning, Mac drove me in.

"So," she said. "Meg as your assistant. How's that working out?"

"So far, very well," I said. "How's Logan's quest to find something to beat you at?"

"We didn't exactly have a whole time to play over the last week, what with you being shot and all," Mac said sardonically.

"I'm sorry to have interrupted your tournament," I said.

"Well, duck next time, okay?"

"I'll try."

"You'd better. It'd be a lot less interesting around here without you."

"Not really big on the emotional moments, are you?" I asked.

She laughed. "Would you feel better if I gave you a big bear hug?"

"Not while you're driving the car, it wouldn't."

When we got to Neptune, Mac helped me out of the Beetle and we walked in. A bit in front of me, Meg and Mandy were talking – about her dog, I guessed. Right when I caught up Mandy got a phone call. Taking out her phone, she said, "Hello?" Then, in a crescendo of excitement, "Yes I did. Oh, you have?"

Her face plummeted and she hung up. "What happened?" I asked.

"Nothing," she said sadly. "Someone was just playing a stupid trick." We all looked down the hall to a group of boys laughing, including one waving his cell and barking. Mandy explained that it was Lenny Sofer, who she'd had a crush on but that not only was the crush not returned that once he'd found out he'd been as big a jackass as possible to her.

I moved to walk down the hall and Meg stopped me. Eyes narrowed, she said, "My case, Ronniekins. But you three follow me." She marched down the hall directly no Lenny and his group, with Mac, Mandy and me following.

"Meg, don't," Mandy said. "Really, it's not worth it."

"Don't say that," Meg said. "Of course it is." She went up to Lenny. "Hi, Lenny! Were you the one who just made that phone call to Mandy?"

"What if I did?" Lenny said, sneering.

"Don't do it again," Meg said.

"Or what?"

"Look behind me, Lenny." She gestured at me and Mac. "You may recognize my friends. One of them is Mac MacKenzie. What she doesn't know about computers isn't worth knowing. The other is Veronica Mars." Apparently I needed no further description. "I anchor the Neptune High News. My boyfriend edits the _Navigator_."

"So?" Lenny said with obviously false bravado.

"So," Meg said cheerfully, "We really don't like it when jackasses like you make fun of innocents like Mandy. Now, think about what we –" her gesture encompassed Mac and I again – "have managed to accomplish this year." She gave Lenny a second to think, which was clearly hard work for him. "Now, then," she said, her voice never losing its perky tenor, "There's a question you might want to ask yourself. Do you really want to piss us off?" She leaned in closer.

"Think carefully, Lenny," I said. "This will count for 100 of your final grade."

His crowd of friends by now had gone completely silent. "Um . . . no?"

Meg smiled. "_Very_ good, Lenny. By the way – that applies to all of you."

Everyone nodded and walked away, shooting nervous glances behind them as they left. When they rounded a corner. Meg turned, jumped about a foot in the air, and let out a squeal of delight. "Yes!" she said. Mac grinned and I started laughing. "Now do you think it was worth it?" she asked Mandy.

It took a moment, but finally Mandy said, "Yeah. Yeah it was."

Meg put her arm around Mandy's shoulder. "Good. Now we'll get back to work on looking for Chester today after school, okay?" Mandy walked off and Meg looked at us. "I hope you don't mind –"

"Mind?" Mac said. "I like it when people are scared of me." She rubbed her hands evilly.

"And they're already terrified of me, so no problem there," I said. "For what it's worth, I might have urged Mandy to take care of something like that herself next time, but otherwise, flawless."

Meg looked at me and shook her head. "No, Veronica. There are people who need to be protected and those who do the protecting. I'm going to be one of the ones who does the protecting." Her voice grew bleak at the end of her statement. Then it was like it had never happened. "Anyway," she said merrily, "I checked around and there are an awful lot of lost dog posters going up. There's definitely something going on."

"Did you call them?"

"What?"

She hadn't thought of that. "Call them. You said yesterday that the two '09er dogs had been returned. My advice is when you check today you check the reward money on those notices you saw and see if there's a correlation between amount of reward and dog returned."

Meg didn't waste much time on self-recrimination. "Good idea. Sorry I didn't think of it myself." Then, "If there is, do you think there's some kind of dognapping ring going around?"

"Probably," I said. "We'll worry about that when it happens."

Meg nodded and walked off to class.

X X X X X

The only significant thing to happen for the rest of the school day was that I got a call from Cliff. The teacher frowned at me until I mentioned that it had something to do with my shooting. She shut up after that. "Mr. Holtz called me back," he said. "Apparently the Casablancas boy pissed and moaned about your second condition, but in the end he gave in." I told him that that was good news. "It is," Cliff said. "But Veronica, do me a favor? The next time you're going to pull something like that, try and give me some advance warning? I almost had a heart attack when you started giving him conditions."

"Couldn't've proved it by the way you acted."

"It's one of my strengths as a lawyer: a poker face Phil Hellmuth would kill for. But assuming you and your father don't actually want me keeling over – never a safe assumption with your family – try not to do that again, okay? Anyway, we have a meeting set up for Thursday after school unless that's horrible inconvenient." It wasn't. "Good. Always a pleasure."

Logan drove me home – we hadn't had much of a chance to connect that day, unfortunately.

When we got home, it was a different matter entirely.

Once again, you're not getting the details. Let's just say that my injured shoulder was never once an issue . . . but that we both had a lot of fun anyway.

After we were done – dressed, cleaned up, all of it, so that Dad wouldn't have anything to pin his suspicions on – I mentioned my dream and the conviction that the phrase "she came back wrong" meant something.

Logan said, "Are you sure? I had a dream last night where I turned into Sylvester Stallone. I don't think that means I want to have the crap kicked out of me by Apollo Creed, though."

"We're not getting into your secret masochistic fantasies right now," I said, while he rolled his eyes. "And yes, I'm sure. Maybe if we bounce some ideas off each other –"

"Instead of what we've been bouncing off each other so far this afternoon?"

"Yes."

He said, "You're no fun."

"I think the moaning you were doing about twenty minutes ago would argue differently. Now, are you in?"

"I'm in."

"Then let's get to work."


	55. Chapter 55

Okay, I now have over 300 reviews. I'm reasonably certain all of my other works together don't have that. Thanks again to all of you. Also, this part marks the point where I go over the 100,000 word mark. (If I counted correctly, it's the first time Dr. London uses the word 'intuition.' Yes, I am occasionally a geek.

Still firmly centered in "Hot Dogs." Only one offhand line of dialogue from the show as aired, though.

Disclaimer: Veronica Mars was created by certified genius Rob Thomas. I may be a certified genius, but I am not, alas, Rob Thomas.

X X X X X

Unfortunately, 'get to work' proved to be a wild overstatement. We essentially figured out that the four words could apply to almost anyone there -- I wasn't completely sure about the gender pronoun -- and that 'came back' had so many different meanings that it would be exhaustively laborious trying to figure it out logically.

"That may the problem right there, Machiavelli," Logan said. "You're trying to use logic where it doesn't apply: to your dreams. If you're convinced, it means something then I believe you. But maybe the less you try to figure it out the better off you'll be."

While I was trying to sort through that, my cell phone rang. It was Meg.

"Hi, Veronica," she said. "Got time for an update?"

"Update away."

"Well, first, you were right. The dogs that had bigger rewards attached to their return, returned. The ones that didn't . . . didn't. At least, most of them. I think someone is taking 09'er dogs."

"Good work. And second?"

She sighed. "The pound called and said that they'd found Chester hit by the side of the highway. They provided his collar as proof."

My heart sank. "Damn."

"I think I'm one up on you this time, Ronniekins," she said. "I asked to see the body. They wouldn't show it to me,"

"Maybe it was horribly mangled," I said.

"Uh-uh. The collar was clean -- no blood or other icky stuff. I think they might have something to do with this."

It was a leap -- but it wasn't a giant one. Sure, there could be other reasons, but it was suspicious enough to at least be worth checking up on. "Any idea where to go from here?"

"Not right now. Unfortunately, staking out the place is out -- I have to be home too early every night. Hmmm. How about if I call the people who had their dogs recovered and maybe see who it was that returned them?"

"A good start," I said. "Try to stay away from doing anything dangerous, though. No confrontations."

"None planned," Meg said. "But if someone is stealing Neptune dogs –"

"They need to be brought down hard," I said, "beaten with a tire iron, and then weighted and dumped into the Pacific."

"I was going to go with 'arrested,' but that works too. Anyway, I'm going to go make those calls." She said goodbye and I turned back to Logan.

"So, a full-time assistant," Logan said. "Moving up in the world, aren't you?"

"Not full-time," I said. "This is just a practice run for her. She's got something else she wants to use these skills for. Duncan knows, but he's not telling." I knew more than Meg thought, but still not enough to do anything more than make an educated guess. "And don't ask him."

"I wasn't going to," he said, holding up his hands. "So how's she doing?"

"Very well. A couple of rookie mistakes, but honestly, she could make it her career if she was so inclined."

"She's not going to have a career," Logan said.

"Huh?"

"Her parents won't let her. All of this extracurricular activity she's doing is supposed to make her more well-rounded and a 'better catch.' They expect her to be married to a good, God-fearing man by the time she's 21, and popping out grandchildren shortly thereafter."

"Meg's parents are that conservative?"

"Meg's parents are religious fanatics," Logan said. "I met them once. That was quite enough. How they produced someone as sunny as Meg is completely beyond me."

I already knew they were controlling. Toss in religious fanaticism and I would have bet my left arm – or what was left of it – that there was some kind of abuse going on.

Meg. . please ask me for help before you take them on.

Please.

We sat around and watched TV until Dad got home. He wasn't surprised to see Logan there, though thanks to our being careful he had nothing to pin his suspicions on.

"So what have you two been up to?" he asked.

"Oh, the usual – talking, watching TV, kitten barbecues. You?"

"Kitten barbecues?" he said, frowning.

"We saved you one," Logan said. "It's in the freezer. Veronica said you prefer a nice honey glaze."

Dad looked at Logan and shook his head with mock sadness. "Now she's got you doing it too."

"She's a bad influence," Logan said.

"I know," Dad said. "What's a father to do?"

X X X X X

That night, I had a couple of phone calls to make. After dinner, Dad had gone out to try to catch a local businesswoman cheating on her husband.

I decided to take the easier call first and work my way up. I looked at Dr. London's business card – her first name was Justine – and, sitting on the edge of my bed, tried her office number.

To my relief, she was in. "Veronica," she said. "How's your shoulder?"

"It still hurts – but nothing I can't handle. The hardest part is sleeping on my right side. I always wind up facing the wall when I do that."

"Is there something frightening on the wall you don't want to see?"

I laughed. "No. It's just boring."

"I would have thought boring would be helpful when you're trying to go to sleep." After a second, she said, "And you're being careful with your shoulder?"

"Yes."

"Even when you and your boyfriend have sex?"

I fell off my bed.

"Veronica?" I heard distantly. Apparently I'd dropped the phone. "Are you all right?"

Picking it up, I said, "Yes," face reddening. "I just wasn't expecting the question. I hadn't thought we'd said anything like that where anyone could pick up on it."

"You didn't. It was intuition on my part. And good intuition, I'm guessing. So are you being careful?" When I didn't answer, she said, "Veronica, I'm a doctor. I'm not asking this for prurient reasons." After a second, "Although it is fun to hear people sputter when I ask it."

I couldn't help but smile at that. "Yes," I said. "We were careful."

"Good. No offbeat positions until I give you the go-ahead to put weight on it, alright?"

"Okay."

"Now, you called me. What did you want to ask?"

"The bullet. I realize you're not a forensics expert, but how sure are you of where it was shot from?" It had occurred to me that the place the rifle had been found wasn't necessarily the place it was used.

"I actually don't know where it was found," she said. "But I do know the angle of the wound shows it was shot from somewhere well off to your left."

"Could you be more specific?'

"If you're standing at the center of a traditional clock," Dr. London said, "Then I would say that whoever shot you was standing at somewhere between 9 and 10."

Which was more or less where Weevil found the rifle, so scratch that idea. I needed to see the place where it was found. Fortunately, access to the Echolls estate? Not so much a problem these days. "Thank you, Dr. London."

"You're welcome. I don't know why you wanted to know this, but I'm assuming the reason was good."

"It was." We said our goodbyes and hung up.

And sadly, that probably would be the easier of the two calls I was planning on making. I gritted my teeth and punched in the numbers for the second person.

I got a recording. "This is Trina Echolls. If you're calling to ask me questions about my father being framed, please call –" she left a number-- "and my agent will get back to you to arrange an interview. Everyone else, leave your name and message at the beep."

"Trina, hi, it's Veronica. I realize I might not be your favorite person on the planet at the moment, but I'm trying to figure out who shot me – and I'd like to know if you told anyone about Lynn's potential revelation before the press conference. Call me back when you can."

I hung up, debated calling Meg while I waited – ultimately I decided against it, no point in micromanaging. Then I got started on some homework.

It was about ten to eight when Trina called. "Veronica. Hi," she said. "And no, you're not my favorite person on the planet but I don't hate you. I even tried to find a doctor when you got shot, remember?"

"I remember, Trina."

"I thought the person who shot you was in jail already." Typical Trina -- she didn't even ask how I was doing.

"Yeah, about that . . . I don't think he did it."

"Oh, Veronica, Veronica," she said. "Just because your Dad got Abel Koontz off doesn't mean you can do the same thing." She laughed. "I mean, it's nice to have a crusade, but maybe the crusade should be something a little more meaningful?"

"I personally think making sure someone doesn't go to jail for something they didn't do is ubermeaningful," I said. "Maybe our definitions are different."

"Someone important like my Dad? Sure. Someone like Little Dick Casablancas --" I made a mental note to stop calling Dick that; if Trina could come up with it, it was too obvious -- "Not so much." Before I could continue, she said, "You know, Veronica, just because your friend seduced my Dad doesn't mean he killed her."

I amazed myself by not ripping Trina a new one. "Anyway, did you tell anyone about the accusations Lynn was going to make?"

"My agent, Jojo Kenney; Dad's agent, Harvey Greenblatt; and I mentioned it on a couple of online forums."

"You use online forums?"

"Best source for gossip and knowing what's happening to who," she said. She gave me the names of the forums and her agent's number. "I'm sure Lynn has Harvey Greenblatt's number somewhere," she said. He was the one I was going to call first; He was probably, through my connections with Lynn, the most reachable. I'd try Jojo Kenney -- god, what a name -- afterwards. I was going to ask Mac to check out the online forums -- not her usual run, but maybe she'd be able to tell if there was anything off-kilter about any of it. (Or be able to tell if Trina had actually been the one who posted them.)

"Thank you, Trina."

"I think you're wasting your time, Veronica, but anything you need, you know all you have to do is ask." With that, she hung up. Sadly, I really think she believed what she was saying.

So, I had a couple of leads.

I quickly called Lynn and asked him for Harvey Greenblatt's number. I'd explore the grounds tomorrow afternoon, barring any major developments in the dognapping case. She said, "I'll have to let him know you're calling him or you'll never get through. I don't know how happy he'll be to hear from me, though."

"Really. Why?"

"Well, somehow he found out that I was going to out Aaron as the murderer of Lilly Kane and he begged me not to -- he said it would ruin his posthumous career and my money flow. He was kind of ticked when I told him that this was the way it was going to be and that I already had more money than I knew what to do with. He said he wasn't going to let me drag him down with him and hung up on me. Anyway, I'll do what I can."

"Thanks, Lynn."

Well. Wasn't _that_ interesting.


	56. Chapter 56

Author's note: B Flat.

Disclaimer: Rob Thomas created Veronica Mars. I created Vanessa Mencken, Dr. London, and this specific story, but that's it.

X X X X X

Before I hung up, I asked Lynn if she'd gotten any more threats on her life – or any orders to keep quiet about her theories about Aaron.

"Have you seen me keeping quiet?" she asked, which wasn't actually an answer. I pointed this out to her and she said, "A few, of course. Mostly from people who were big fans of my late husband. Some anonymous."

"Anyone seem like they're doing more than blowing smoke?"

"No one's actually tried to kill me." Again, this wasn't an answer. "Don't tell Logan this next part, okay? I haven't told anyone about it and I honestly didn't think to connect these things until our dinner on Monday."

"Okay," I said dubiously.

"I did come out from a hair appointment and found out someone had spraypainted the word 'liar' on my car."

"That stinks." Still, that's not life-threatening. It's harassment. It could be the same person, I suppose, but there wasn't any proof yet.

"It gets worse."

I sighed. "Of course it does."

"There was a note on the windshield that said, "Stop lying about Aaron Echolls, bitch." And _that_ crossed to the level of threatening.

"I hope you saved the note."

"I've saved all of them. I've seen enough crime dramas to know that. I also know the Neptune Sheriff's office won't listen to me until Dick Casablancas is officially cleared."

"Which should happen sometime Thursday afternoon, so be ready."

"I will," she said.

It was looking more and more like Lynn had been the intended target. Still, I wasn't a hundred percent sure – but hoped that that level of certainty didn't come after Lynn was lying in a ditch somewhere after she'd been run off the road.

We said our goodbyes and hung up.

Sleep, that night, was sporadic at best, and it had nothing to do with my shoulder. I was worried. Worried about Lynn; worried about Dad; worried about Meg; and about Logan.

And of course, that I was facing the wall didn't help much either.

X X X X X

The next morning Logan took me in. I distracted myself from my problems with some gentle but rather charged making out in the X-Terra. It was hard not telling Logan about the threats against his mother, but I didn't want _him_ to have to worry any more than he already was.

Meg caught up to me as I walked in. "Update time?" she said.

I shrugged, winced at the pain in my shoulder, and said, "Sure. What do you have?"

"I called the people whose dogs were returned. While the person who called them spoke fluent English, the person who actually showed up was almost always someone who spoke only a few words of it." She drowned. "Not always the same person, though. Also, they always insisted on cash payments."

"People can stop checks," I said.

"True – but combined with the first part?"

I'd already come to the same conclusion; I was just checking her confidence. "True. So. Next step?"

"I asked a couple of the people whose dogs were still missing to let me know if they got a call."

Not bad, but that might take a couple of days. "Or you could try to set up a meeting yourself – increase the reward on one of the dogs?"

Meg thought about that, then frowned. "These people don't seem to waste much time, though. I think I'll try it my way for the moment – if that's okay with you, Ronniekins?"

"Only if you stop calling me Ronniekins."

She smiled. "You're just going to have to live with the disappointment, then."

"If I must," I said exaggeratedly.

Her face got serious. "I'm not really upsetting you by calling you Ronniekins, am I, Veronica?"

Not knowing why she'd asked the question, I said, "Of course not. I've spent too long at this place taking cheap shots from people who wanted me tortured with hot pokers to let a mild annoyance from a good friend bother me in the least." I said. "After all, I haven't _seriously_ asked you to stop, have I?"

"No. I'm just worried –"

"Whenever whatever goes down," I said. "If you need me, I'll be there."

"I wasn't actually concerned about that part," she said.

"I know," I said. "I just wanted to set your mind at ease there, that's all. Now. You're doing a hell of a job here so far. I have confidence in you. Both for this and . . . for whatever."

She said, "Veronica, I really do need to tell you about that."

"Only when you're ready."

"No; it's when you're ready. You just got shot and you're trying to figure out who – don't deny it. I may not be able to read people as well as you can, but you're not acting like you're glad Dick Casablancas was arrested. And that look in your eyes when I just brought it up kinda confirmed it for me."

"I think you can read people pretty well," I said wryly.

She said, "Anyway, I don't want to give you more burdens than you can handle."

"For me? This is actually one of my lighter loads," I said. "But I appreciate that you're being thoughtful." I leaned in closer; this wasn't something anyone else needed to hear. "Meg, I haven't done any investigation, but I've already figured out part of it. One or both of your parents is abusive. Obviously things haven't gone to hell or you'd have tried to do something about it already. But if they do, don't worry about the burdens I've got. You have friends too."

She stiffened when I said the word abuse, but relaxed once I got through the rest of it. "I'm starting to figure that out too. Thanks, Veronica." Then she pulled away and said, suddenly cheerful again. "I've got to go get to class. Thanks for the support, Ronniekins!"

X X X X X

School itself was more or less ordinary. Ordinary is good. I've seen enough interesting to last a lifetime. Lunch was a raucous conversation with all six of us there, ranging from video games – another challenge, this time on the most obscure game Logan could get off EBay, a mid-1990s game called _Cybermage_ – "I've never played this, MacKenzie, and I bet you haven't either."

"No," she said. "Looking forward to it."

"And no looking up online hint books, either."

Mac's face fell. "You expect me to go in blind?"

"It has the instruction manual," Logan said, "And I haven't opened the package yet. Everything's absolutely even."

"Well, then, how's tomorrow sound?"

"Perfect."

We stayed away from any subject that might cause angst – which meant there was a whole lot we couldn't talk about. We also talked about Ms. Stafford.

It had to be said that Ms. Stafford had been a hell of a lucky choice to be the new journalism teacher, and I was really grateful Duncan and I had managed to cover for her. No, she didn't have experience, but she wasn't trying to order us around as though she did.

She came up with ideas, she was enthusiastic (but had managed to tone down the cheer-squad drill instructor attitude that had so amused me and Logan), and she wasn't afraid of occasionally pissing off the school's administration.

After lunch, I asked Mac to check out the discussion boards Trina had mentioned. "If anyone made any serious threats, do what you can to find out who they really are and let me know, okay?" As expected, this wasn't a problem; Mac scoffed at how easy it was.

"It's been a while since you came up with a challenge for me, Veronica," she said.

"I'm sorry," I said in mock apology. "Next time I'll ask you to hack into the Pentagon."

"I said a _challenge_, Veronica."

Logan drove me to Mars Investigations once school ended. I was going to do some filing for dad and maybe catch up with Harvey Greenblatt.

"So, how's Maxi-me doing?" he asked.

"Still doing a good job," I said. "With any luck, if she wants to, she _will_ be able to make it her career."

"Still not talking about it?"

"For my own good, apparently," I said, and explained what I meant.

He smiled – a genuine smile, not the patented Logan Echolls smirk. "Damn. I rarely say this about anyone, but she really is a good person. Other people tell you their problems and expect you to solve them. And you do your damnedest, Machiavelli. She's not telling you her problems, not expecting you to solve them, and not even expecting you to worry about them, because she knows that you would if she did. Now _that's_ insightful."

I couldn't disagree.

No time for fun sex games on the way over, though the goodbye kiss was long and lingering enough that Dad came out of his office to glare at us.

"Did you want something?" Logan asked.

"My daughter."

"Are you done with me?" I asked.

"Never." Then, looking at Dad, Logan said, "But for the moment I suppose I can share." He gave me a quick peck and left.

"What do I keep telling you?"

"Don't let them out in daylight, don't get them wet, and never feed them after midnight."

"Honey, that's Gremlins, not boyfriends." Yeah; sometimes you want boyfriends to, er, eat things after midnight. But I think even Dad's legendary tolerance of banter would balk at that one. "Anyway, come on in. I rearranged the desk a bit for you."

He had; everything was on the right side except for the computer. "And if your shoulder starts bothering you, stop."

"I will, don't worry."

I took only a couple of calls, looked up some information online, and put away a couple of closed cases, which left me plenty of time.

Dad had told me that when he was looking for Aaron Echolls' stalker, he'd had an encounter with Harvey Greenblatt and his wife. My need to know what he knew outweighed my need to cover up that I was investigating who shot me. "Dad -- what do you know about Harvey Greenblatt?"

"Aaron Echolls' agent?" Dad said. "Not much. Why do you ask?"

"Because I was talking to Lynn the other day --" no need to tell him about what --"and she said that the last time she'd talked to him he'd said something vaguely threatening if she went public with her theories."

He gave me a hard look. "Veronica --"

"Dad, it came up. I'm concerned about her. And like you said, you can't stop me from thinking."

He sighed. "My exposure was limited. His wife cheated on him with Aaron --" motive for him to kill Aaron, maybe, but not Lynn -- "And Aaron was really his only big client. He's got a couple of TV bit players and that's about it." Bingo. While he's already lost his client, the money would still be rolling in from DVD sales, posters, and so on. If Aaron's reputation turns from martyr to murderer those sales take a nosedive. I mean, look how much acting work OJ Simpson's gotten recently. "And," Dad said, "You're not to investigate it."

"What? Heaven forfend. Tomorrow after we blow Lamb's case against Dick Casablancas out of the water, I'll point Lynn towards Harvey as having a motive. That's all," I lied.

"It had better be."

Well, that killed my plans for calling him from work; I couldn't, not with Dad half-listening in. Fortunately, the businesswoman Dad was trying to catch had another "late meeting" tonight, so I'd call him then.

I dropped the subject for the moment and Dad went back into his office.

X X X X X

Okay, now Dad was likely gone for a while, unless the businesswoman rips her lover's clothes off in the Camelot parking lot. Don't laugh; Dad caught one of Jake Kane's subordinates doing just that. Fastest money he ever made. He was back home in an hour.

Given that as a precedent, probably not a good idea to dawdle. Wouldn't want this to be that one in a hundred time.

To my astonishment and delight, the call gets me right through. "This is Harvey Greenblatt."

"Um, Mr. Greenblatt, my name's Veronica Mars -- did Lynn Echolls tell you I might call?"

His voice, not exactly a melodious one full of sunshine and puppies to begin with, turned positively sour. "Yeah, she did, kid. Something about something I said to her before her press conference. I can give you five minutes."

"There's no easy way to ask this question, Mr. Greenblatt. Trina Echolls called you before it, right?"

"Right. Thought I might be able to talk Lynn out of this half-assed theory she's got about Aaron killing that Lilly Kane kid. No luck. I told her she'd be cutting into her own funds and she didn't seem to care."

I said carefully, "Then she says you said you weren't going to let you drag you down with her."

"Yeah. I got in touch with some people who owe me favors."

"And these people are . . ."

"Gossip columnists. Entertainment columnists. Reporters. You know, people like that. Told them Lynn's theory and asked them to do what they could to defuse it. If Lynn wants to be crazy, let her. But just because she doesn't care about the money doesn't mean I don't." After a second, "So why're you asking these questions, kid?"

"Lynn thinks the person who shot me --"

"Right, Heard about that. Sorry it happened. If you ever want to pitch it as a movie idea, give me a call."

I didn't dignify that with an answer. "Anyway, Lynn thinks the person might have been aiming at her instead . . ."

Dead silence, then the last sound I expected. Booming laughter erupted from the other end of the phone. "And she thinks I might have done it?" he said when he stopped laughing.

"Well, if you were worried about your revenue stream . . ."

"Yeah, I was. Still am. Wouldn't have Lynn killed to shut her up, though. And if I had, I'd've had it done before she spouted off her stupid theory. Not after. After and she'd be a martyr."

"Unless all you meant to do was scare her."

"Kid, if I ever hired a hit man, it wouldn't be just to scare someone. Best way I know to scare someone is telling them the money's going to dry up. Once that didn't work, the 'bad publicity' angle was the best I could work. Anyway, Aaron's made me enough money that if I wanted a hit man, I could afford one who wouldn't miss."

True. And if it _was _a hit man, I was way out of my league anyway.

"I would have had to been Superman, anyway; Trina didn't tell me until about 5:15 that afternoon and first thing I did was try to call Lynn. After she said no is when I tried the publicity angle. And that's all, kid; your five minutes are up. I hope I've convinced you that this crazy theory is just like Lynn's other crazy theory." He hung up without saying goodbye.

I had to sort through what I thought about that. The timing issue was the biggest thing. The rest of the answers made sense but weren't completely convincing. Two hours is kind of short notice to hire an out-of-town hit man, though. I couldn't completely dismiss it, but it seemed less likely.

The same probably applied for Trina's agent, but I'd try him too. It was looking like a local stalker was more likely.

And we _knew_ Lynn had one of those.

Up tomorrow: Getting Dick Casablancas cleared.

I could hardly wait.


	57. Chapter 57

Note: While the "Hot Dogs" _case_ is still going on, I believe in this part I go past the show's timeline. Veronica solved her case, I think, in three days; right now in the mainstream universe Veronica, Wallace, Deputy Leo and Mandy are storming the pound.

Disclaimer: Don't own _VM_. Wish I did.

X X X X X

Jojo Kenney's number was easy to look up, but he didn't answer his phone. I left him a message like the one I'd left Harvey Greenblatt.

Again, assuming Trina had called everyone at more or less the same time, Jojo Kenney – also an LA-based agent – probably wouldn't have had time to call in any hit men, but I needed to cover myself.

I called Mac; she was just getting in from a "big MacKenzie family dinner" out.

"At a steakhouse," she grumbled. "It's like taking a kosher Jew to a place that serves nothing but crabcakes and ham sandwiches."

"So what did you eat?"

"Salad and a baked potato. I could barely keep it down – I can't stand the smell in those places, Veronica. I really can't. Do you mind if I change the subject? Even thinking about it makes me kind of nauseated."

"Change away."

"This game_ Cybermage_ Echolls found is tremendously cool from what I've seen of it online. No cheat codes or walkthroughs, I promise," and I knew just enough about the world of computer games to get what those were, "Just getting the details. Hard to believe it came out when we were still in third or fourth grade. I'd tell you all the details but I think you'd probably be bored senseless."

"Not _senseless_," I said. "Anyway, did you have time to check those discussion boards?"

"I had five minutes," Mac said. "The threads were there. No time to go into too much detail, though. I'll let you know tomorrow, okay?"

"Do you remember when the original postings were?"

"Hold on a second, I bookmarked them . . . around 5 o'clock on Monday afternoon."

Which would have given any sufficiently deranged local plenty of time to whistle up a rifle and start taking shots. And the night of the shooting, the public had pretty much open access to the Echolls estate. There were a few hundred people there – reporters, locals, other interested parties, plus Trina, who was in the house sulking. Osama bin Laden could have been in the crowd and no one would have noticed.

"Thanks, Mac. Have a good night."

"You too."

Not to my particularly great surprise, Jojo Kenney did not in fact call back that night. But I did get a bit of good news: Dad came home in something of a good mood. The businesswoman hadn't in fact thrown her lover down on the hood of his car, but this time they kind of forgot to close the windows all the way. Dad got several shots, definitely enough to give the woman's husband what he needed.

So we ordered a late pizza – I insisted on Cho's, again (he'd gone back into the Kane Scholarship lead by mere percentage points) – and watched _Die Hard_ until it was time to go to bed.

X X X X X

The next morning, Mac picked me up. (My friends were more or less taking turns with my Dad; Mac and Logan, with Duncan on standby.)

"Any luck?'

"Plenty. I can show you once we get to school, but there were some unhappy people. It looks like there were some death threats but they were deleted by the board admins."

"Damn."

"Remember who you're talking to, Veronica; I could have cracked those things in my sleep. There are a couple of options with deleted posts; simply removing them from public view or removing them completely from the server. No one ever seems to use the latter option, which makes my job surprisingly easy." She pointed to her book bag. "Got a printout for you – the most threatening messages and the people's real names."

"Were there any locals?" I wasn't going to worry about anyone too far outside Neptune, for obvious reasons.

"Marked them off first," she said. "I gave myself a perimeter of a hundred miles and only checked posts made before 6:15 PM. Besides Trina Echolls, there are two people. There were other Neptunians –" Neptunians? Is that what we are? Makes me feel like I should be tentacled, gray, eight feet tall and destroying Los Angeles with my laser pistol – "but some of them bought the story and some of them just seemed to think it was stupid. I got their names for you too if you think you need them."

As she handed me the printouts, I said, "Thanks, Mac. How much do I owe you?"

"Your firstborn."

"Would you settle for my secondborn?"

"How do I know you'll have two kids?"

"How do you know I'll have one?"

"Good point. The usual, then?"

"$5 and an order of fries it is."

"$50," she said. "But I will take that order of fries."

"$49 if you want the fries."

"Done."

I love Mac, I really do.

X X X X X

Before school, Meg, Duncan and I sat at one of the outside tables. Duncan was there because he was part of whatever fiendish plot Meg had lined up next to find the dognappers.

"Someone called Mrs. DeRyan last night about her dachshund Fellini," Meg said. "Mrs. DeRyan offered a $4,000 reward. I'm going to deliver it this afternoon. Duncan's going to be my muscle."

Duncan, standing behind Meg, flexed like a bodybuilder while I laughed. "Arnold Schwarzenegger's got nothin' on you," I said.

"Yeah," he said. "He's got a political office; so do I, only I'm not running my constituency into the ground. He's got a good-looking woman in the media; I have a better-looking one." Meg blushed at that.

"All very true," I said. "So, Meg. What's the plan?"

"The plan is to give the man the money and then ask him some questions."

"If he doesn't speak English . . .?"

"I speak Spanish, Veronica. Not like a native, but pretty well. The language barrier won't be a problem."

Now it was time for the warning. "Meg, this could be dangerous," I said. "Even if you're meeting in an open area that's no guarantee."

"I know. That's why I'm bringing Duncan along."

All comparisons to Ah-nuld aside, that Duncan was going to be there made it only marginally safer. "Try to round up someone else if you can. No offense, Duncan, but the more the better. If you can't, take off at the first sign that things are getting weird, okay?" You could just cut the hypocrisy with a butter knife. Here I was trying to figure out who _shot_ me and here I was telling Meg to keep an eye out for dognappers. And if I'd done the same thing, I might have taken Backup, but not backup.

I suppose I could make the argument that I had more experience, but I was 17 and had been helping my father for about a year. I wasn't exactly Hercule Poirot.

Meg said, "I will. I promise. And I've got the Sheriff on speed-dial."

I started to protest and Duncan interrupted with, "He listens to us. If Meg or I tell him something, he's not going to say an automatic 'no.'" Unlike with you, was the obvious corollary, but I couldn't be insulted by the truth.

"Still, whether they're on speed-dial or not, they're not Superman; if there's trouble they're more likely to show up after it's over. Try to avoid that." They both nodded. "And if you actually talk to Lamb, leave my name out of it." If Lamb didn't like me now, he was going to loathe me tomorrow, or whenever Larry Holtz managed to provide the name of their new surprise witness.

He should count his blessings; I could be making him to look like an ass for all the world to see, like I did with Beaver Casablancas and like Dad did in getting Abel Koontz freed. This way he gets to make up his own excuse for why he blew it.

Lunch was just me and Wallace; we hadn't had a whole lot of BFF-time recently and he and I were both glad of it. His mother had pulled out of the funk she was in; she was no longer cursing men in general as "useless lying scumbags," her words not Wallace's. Otherwise, we just hung out. It was nice.

X X X X X

As I walked out of school, I got a call from Jojo Kenney.

"Hello," he said. "Miss Mars? You called me?"

"Yes, Thanks for getting back to me. Last Tuesday, did Trina Echolls call you before her stepmother's press conference?"

"Yes, she did. Sometime before dinner . . . around 5:30, maybe. Why?" Well, the time issue pretty much clinched it, but I might as well at least go through the motions.

"What was your reaction?"

"Honestly? I was thrilled."

"Thrilled?"

"Of course. I don't think it's exactly a secret that Trina pretty much trades on her last name. Her biggest roles so far are bit parts in _SVU_ and _CSI_ and a couple of bigger roles in grade-Z movies that the Sci-Fi Channel wouldn't show at 2 AM. Look, I love the girl, but she's not exactly brimming over with talent. Honestly, this could only be good for her."

"Her father being a murderer would be good for her?"

"Sure! The name would be out there and no one would blame her for it . . . it could only boost her career. Honestly, these public appearances she's been getting have gotten her more exposure and more money than she's gotten in the last four years."

"So you wouldn't have wanted to shut Lynn Echolls up or anything?"

"Of course not! I tried to convince Trina of this, too, but honestly, she wasn't listening to me. She's not too proud not to take the money, though."

Hmmm. So Jojo Kenney was pretty much off the hook, unless he was a world-class liar, and I didn't think he was. "Thanks, Mr. Kenney."

"No problem, Miss Mars. Have a good day."

Dad was waiting outside and had clearly been waiting for a while. "Hurry up, sweetie," he said. "What took you so long?"

"The ritual sacrifice wasn't done yet and it was my turn to wield the dagger."

"Well, I hope the death was quick and merciful."

"Kind of defeats the point of a ritual sacrifice."

Once again we trundled off to Cliff's. Larry Holtz was waiting when we got there.

"I think everything in the contract is exactly as you wanted it," he said. Dad and I looked over at Cliff.

"Exactly what you asked for, Veronica," Cliff confirmed. I looked down; Dick Casablancas' signature was already on it, as was Mr. Holtz's as his legal representative. I signed it, and then so did Cliff. He kept one copy, handed another back to Mr. Holtz, and ran off a couple of photocopies for Dad and me. Dad took them and we got up to go.

"Tell me," Mr. Holtz asked as I stood, "Are you thinking of going into the legal profession as a career?"

"I hadn't really thought of it one way or the other."

"If you do," he said, "Let me know so I can retire. I wouldn't want to face you at the bargaining table."

I thanked him, then Cliff, and we left. Dad dropped me off at home and went back to the office.

It wasn't until then that I realized I hadn't had a chance to look at the printouts Mac had handed me this morning detailing the two Neptune residents who'd threatened Lynn's life.

The first person was a woman I'd never heard of named Jessamyn von Esterhaus. The second --

The second was Vanessa Mencken.


	58. Chapter 58

Wrapping up the events of "Hot Dogs" here.

Disclaimer: I don't own Veronica Mars. If I did, I'd be richer than I am now.

X X X X X

Hmmm. That was a twist I never would've seen coming.

Why would Vanessa Mencken threaten Lynn Echolls? She got her money and she hadn't seemed deranged back when she was trying to blackmail Logan.

Of course, if everyone who was out of their mind acted like it, the world would be a much better place. I mean, no one would have pegged Beaver Casablancas as a sociopath, either.

At least, of the two potential killers in Neptune, it wouldn't be any trouble tracking her down.

Jessamyn von Esterhaus, with a name like that, wasn't much harder. A quick check of the phone book said she lived at 11 Paradisio Lane. I'd never heard of the street, and I knew most places in Neptune. A quick hop online and a minute later, thanks to Mapquest, I had directions. Doing a quick websearch of her name led to the fact that she also had an Aaron Echolls web shrine, complete with an appropriately garish and morbid obituary page for Aaron and a "Note concerning the lies of Lynn Echolls."

"Lynn Lester was an actress of marginal talent and even less beauty when Aaron married her. One of the few lapses in taste in an otherwise amazing life (the less said about _Road to Dead_, the better). That she would try to bolster her own fading career by lying about him doesn't surprise me in the least. Someone needs to get the truth out there about this bitch's lies -- actually, someone needs to get her to shut up. Anyway --"

And then followed a "refutation" of what Lynn had said at the press conference -- one part wishful thinking, two parts hero worship, stir well. The only thing noteworthy about it was its comparative literacy.

I wrote her an email thanking her for exposing the truth behind Lynn Echolls' 'lies' and got an autoreply back: "I am unable to respond to email right now because I broke my glasses and without them I'm functionally blind. I will answer you as soon as I can. Jessamyn." She must have had someone type them in for her. And the functional blindness would explain her being a fan of Aaron Echolls.

I'd have to wait until tomorrow afternoon at the earliest to visit with her, though. Vanessa Mencken I could, and would, confront tomorrow.

Dad was scheduled to be on time getting home today, so I made the best meal I could essentially one-handed. My shoulder wasn't hurting me quite so much when I raised it anymore but I could tell it was a long way from fully healed.

When he finally got home, I had a couple of tuna salad sandwiches and a microwaved box of frozen vegetables all ready. Okay, so I'm not Julia Child. Shoot me.

"Tuna salad," Dad said. "What's the occasion?"

I stuck out my tongue. "Didn't want you to have to do all the work around here," I said. "Besides, I used my secret recipe."

"Your secret recipe involves Italian Dressing," Dad said.

"Well, if you tell everyone it's not going to be a secret, now, is it?"

After dinner was done, I went into my room to do homework. A half hour later, while in the middle of researching something for English, Meg called.

"We got them!" she said excitedly.

"You got them?"

"Yes!"

"Well, then, tell me what happened."

"We met the man in the dog park by the beach – nice, public area, a lot of people around. Just like the rest of them, he didn't speak any English. I handed him the envelope – he looked through it to make sure the $2,000 was in there –- and he handed over Fellini's leash. While Duncan walked him over to Mrs. DeRyan –"

"Mrs. DeRyan was there?" I asked a bit incredulously.

"You said you wanted more witnesses. And I didn't want to have to drag around an innocent little dachshund with us, or leave him locked up in Duncan's car. Anyway, as Ramon – that was the guy's name, Ramon – was leaving I started to ask him a couple of questions." She laughed. "You should have seen his face when he went all 'no habla ingles' and I switched right on over to Spanish."

"Well, to be fair, you hardly look the part."

She laughed again. "True enough. Anyway, I asked him who'd hired him and he didn't answer. I asked him again and he started to walk away."

After a period of silence, Veronica said, "I hate it when people telling me stories try to draw things out for dramatic effect."

"Not being dramatic," Meg said. "Being embarrassed."

"About what?"

"About how I got him to stop walking." Then there was an inaudible mumble from the other end of the phone.

"What was that?" I asked.

"I bribed him."

I couldn't help myself; I started laughing.

Meg misunderstood why I was laughing and said, sounding a bit offended, "It worked!"

"Not why I'm laughing, Meg. I'm laughing because you thought it would bother me."

"It doesn't?"

"Well, I'm not saying you want to start paying off the low-level henchmen every time, but whatever works, works. Are there dognappers in jail?"

"Yes."

"Did Mandy get Chester back?"

"Yes. I was right about that, by the way. Any dog whose reward wasn't big enough to be worth their time they simply took the collar off and sold them to another home. Then they kept the collar in case the original owners came in."

"There you go, then." After a second, "So what happened after you paid him?"

"After I took down the information, that's when Duncan and I went to the Sheriff's Department."

"And Lamb listened?"

"Not at first. But I didn't bring your name up – I told him Duncan and I had been working on something about the story for the Neptune _Navigator_ and the TV station – and when he still seemed reluctant I told him maybe busting some dognappers might be good for his image, which as you know has taken a _terrible_ hit recently."

"That did the trick."

Meg confirmed it. "Yes, it did. I talked him into letting us follow him down there. mostly by getting Duncan to agree to give him a good write-up in the _Navigator –_" now _there _was a man desperate for good publicity – "And watched while he and that really cute young deputy –"

"Leo D'Amato," I said. Talk about a path not taken.

"Went through and cleaned house. Lamb got kind of suspicious of a "contagious diseases" section of the place – pointed out that most dog diseases weren't communicable by humans –"

"How the hell did _Lamb_ know that?"

"He has a dog," Meg said. "Maybe one of the other reasons he helped us out."

Don Lamb owned a dog. I couldn't wrap my head around the concept. Of course, the idea that Don Lamb was a member of the same species I was was a struggle on most days.

"And," Meg went on, "There were the other missing dogs. Except for the ones not worth keeping," she said, practically spitting out the last couple of words. Then, in an abrupt change of tone, she said, "I do feel sorry for the people who adopted those dogs, though. They didn't do anything wrong, they've opened their hearts to a new pet, and now it's going to be ripped away from them."

Ah, Meg. Heart as big as the sun.

"Anyway, I noticed they weren't there and the pound employee once again said they were all dead, and I explained why I didn't believe them, and the Deputy said to him, 'People don't think much of animal abusers in prison. Would you like that rumor to get spread around?' and that's when he confessed."

"Well, disjointed narrative aside, it sounds to me like you did fine. The bad guys are out of commission, the dogs are or will be returned to their rightful owners, and you figured it out all on your own."

"The reason I'm worried about the bribe is that it wasn't using my brain, or cleverness, or anything like that. It was just me peeling off a wad of hundreds."

"And that wasn't using your brain?" I said. "You needed him to talk. He talked. As far as I'm concerned, any way of getting someone to talk short of actually beating them unconscious is fine. Whatever works, works. This is investigative work, not gymnastics. We don't get style points."

"But –"

"But nothing. I'm not saying you didn't make a minor mistake or two along the way, but Meg, _you solved the case_. That's all that counts."

"But will it be good enough when it really matters?" she whispered.

"There's really only one way to find out, Meg," I said. "If you want a second run-through, I'll supervise the next school-type case I get too. We can do this as long as you think you're not ready."

"Thanks, Veronica."

"No problem."

X X X X X

Larry Holtz hadn't wasted any time getting Dick Casablancas cleared of the attempted murder charges; it was the big headline in the paper the next day. "Sheriff busts alleged dognapping ring" was relegated to A7.

Poor Donnie.

It was Logan's turn to drive me to school.

"So, how'd the _Cybermage_ facedown go?" I asked.

"Incomplete. We both kept getting killed -- I think she was maybe a bit ahead when we had to break it off, but that's it." He paused. "I can catch her on this one, Machiavelli. I know it."

"I wish you luck."

"You don't have confidence in my computer-game skills, do you?"

"Logan, I think you could kick the ass of 98 of the gamers on the planet. With Mac, however --"

"Feelin' the love," he said.

"Wait until we get to the parking lot and you'll be feeling some love."

"Are you _trying_ to get me arrested for speeding?" Then, in all seriousness, "How's your investigation coming?"

"Meg found the dogs."

"Not that investigation."

"Oh. That one."

"Yes," he said a little irritably, "The one where you're trying to find someone who _shot you_! And who could be coming after either my mother or your father."

"Just a friendly word of warning, Logan," I said. "I get all the overprotectiveness I need from my father. I'm not in the market for more."

"I'm not so sure he's wrong on this one." Then he sighed. "But I don't suppose I can lock you in a safe deposit box until this all goes away." After a bitter chuckle, he said, "But I still want to."

"And I appreciate that. But try to stop somewhere short of actually doing it, okay?"

"Okay." Then, "So, how _is_ it coming?"

"Unfortunately, Logan, I think the target is more likely to be your mother." I told him what I'd learned so far, minus the vandalizing of Lynn's car, since she'd asked me to keep that a secret.

"You want help with Vanessa Mencken?"

"I think I'm good there, thanks," I said. "She can't really run away from me here. If she decides to be uncooperative, I'll bring you in. Where I could use your help, though, is this afternoon when I try to find Jessamyn von Esterhaus."

"So I'm your chauffeur?"

"Think of it more like 'getaway driver.'"

"Think making it sound more macho is going to make it any more appealing?"

"How about, 'you're doing it because you're my boyfriend and you love me?'"

"Always gotta play that trump card, don't you, Mars?"

"But it works so _well_."

As it happened, I didn't run into Vanessa Mencken that day; she was out sick. Senioritis, probably, since we were in the last couple of months of the school year and her parents the mystery writers were doing a book tour that had them away from Neptune for a couple of weeks. Ah well. The best laid plans and all that.

Given that, the school day itself was no more or less than exactly that: a day of school. Some friendly competition at lunch between Logan and Mac, some making out with Logan, some further hashing things out with Meg.

I got into Logan's X-terra after school and, once he'd gotten in, snapped my fingers imperiously. "11 Paradisio Lane, Driver," I said. "And try to avoid the potholes this time. The ride this morning was _beastly._"

He gave me a dirty look as he started the vehicle. "If you're going to act like Miss Daisy, you can ride in the back." After a second, "Or on the roof."

"Any more attitude like that, driver, and there will be no sex for you tonight."

"Yes ma'am," he said.

It was no wonder I'd never heard of 11 Paradisio Lane; it was on a street in Neptune Gardens, an assisted living facility. Jessamyn von Esterhaus had her own cottage.

"May I help you?" she asked, squinting, when she opened the door. She must have been at least 85. She was short and thin and her hair was completely white, but her voice was that of a much younger woman.

"Yes, actually," I said, "Assuming you're the Jessamyn von Esterhaus who runs the Aaron Echolls Shrine?"

"I am," she said.

"I'm Vanessa," I said. "And this is my boyfriend, L--Lloyd."

Logan looked at me and mouthed, "Lloyd?" with an expression that clearly indicated, "That's the best you could do?"

"Well, come in, Vanessa, Lloyd," she said. "I'm sorry about the lack of updates to the page, but I broke my glasses a couple of days ago and without them I can't see much of anything." Which was the only reason I'd decided to come over rather than call -- she wasn't likely to recognize us if she couldn't see who we were. If she'd opened the door and she had glasses I would have said, "Sorry, wrong cottage," and kept going.

"Thanks," I said, "We had been wondering. After all, we're big fans of Aaron Echolls, too, and when we found out you lived right here in town and you also thought Lynn Echolls was lying, we just had to come and visit you." An entire wall of her cottage was posters from Aaron Echolls movies, or autographed photos. She had a computer set up in one corner that Mac would have envied.

"Yes" she said, "That bitch. I couldn't believe it when Trina Echolls -- lovely woman, nothing like her stepmother --" thank God, I murmured to myself -- "Mentioned on that discussion board that Lynn was going to say such horrid lies about him. It made me want to kill her."

"You didn't try, did you?" I asked in a horrified tone.

She laughed. "Oh, no," she said. "I wasn't the one who tried to shoot the nasty woman. Not that I might not have thought about doing it if I'd been thirty years younger, and could still see, and could actually drive, but I watched the whole thing on television."

"Me _too,"_ I said. "How horrid. You know, I heard someone might have hired whoever took that shot."

"I wish I could give them money," she said, "But whatever doesn't come to Neptune Gardens I put into my computer and memorabilia collection."

"And what an impressive collection it is," I said, gritting my teeth. And for the next fifteen minutes, until Logan and I could politely extricate ourselves, I had to feign enthusiasm for the collected works of a serial adulterer and murderer.

"Come on back sometime," she said as we left. "I love discussing Aaron. What a great man he was!"

When we got to the car, I told Logan, "I need to go wash my mouth out with bleach. I feel nauseated."

"Veronica," Logan said tightly, "The next time you talk to someone who thinks my father was a god, leave me out. I don't have the stomach for it."

"How do you deal with Trina?"

"I try not to."

Okay. Jessamyn von Esterhaus hadn't done it. I was rapidly running out of suspects.

Logan's phone rang. "Hello -- What? We'll be right there." He hung up.

"What is it?"

"Someone just took another shot at my mother," he said.

Sometimes I hate being right,


	59. Chapter 59

And _down_ the stretch they come . . .

Disclaimer: Rob Thomas owns 'em, Rob aka Mediancat owns Vanessa Mencken, Justine London, and Jessamyn von Esterhaus.

X X X X X

"Is she okay?"

"Yeah; she was shot _at_, but not shot. She was coming out of a clothing store and a bullet caught her purse. She ran back into the store and another one shattered the window."

"Thank God. I mean, that she's not hurt, not --"

"Yeah, I get that," he said. "Looks like you were right, though."

"And boy I wish I wasn't."

"Me, too."

"Did they get who did it?"

We got to the scene of the shooting twelve minutes later; the Neptune Sheriff's Department was already there.

Lamb gave me an aggrieved look as I stepped down from Logan's X-Terra. "Why are you here?"

"Better philosophers than I have tried to come up with an answer to that one," I said. Them before Lamb's head could explode, I said, "I was with him when he got the call, okay?"

"If I said no, would you turn around and leave?"

"Keep hope alive, Deputy," I said, and then followed Logan over to his mother.

Lynn Echolls -- still inside the store, which apart from an annoyed clerk had been evacuated -- seemed shaken, but more annoyed than anything else. "I think I need to hire a bodyguard."

"What, as cannon fodder?" Logan said. "What you need to do is hole up on the estate."

"Yes, Logan," she said, "Because being on the estate worked so well for Veronica the last time." She took a deep breath, "Sorry for snapping at you. And sorry for bringing up any painful memories, Veronica."

I pointed to my left arm. "As long as I can't use this thing for more than carrying keys and typing, memory's not really an issue."

"Of course it isn't. But I'm not going to go into hiding, Logan. That's what this person wants."

"I think they want you dead, Mom."

"So far they've taken three shots at me and missed with all three," she said. I cleared my throat. "Missed _me_ with all three," she emended. "I'm not entirely sure whoever this is is trying to kill me."

"Or they could just be a really lousy shot," I said. Both Lynn and Logan glared at me. "I'm just pointing out the obvious here. While I admire your sentiments, Lynn, you really do need to protect yourself."

"So, what? Lock myself in my safe room?"

I looked at them. "Your house has a safe room?" Then I shook my head. "Never mind. Of course not, Lynn. But you do need to be a lot more careful. Only tell people you trust where you're going. And, while you don't need to never leave the estate, but maybe you do need to leave it a little less often?"

She sighed. "You're right. But I'm not going to stop talking about Aaron. I'm not going to start canceling interviews or anything. I still want people to know what he did."

Logan said, "We wouldn't ask you to do that, Mom. But perhaps a few more radio call-ins and a few less personal appearances."

Deputy Leo came in. "Mrs. Echolls?" he said.

"Yes?"

"The Sheriff has a couple of more questions and then we can let you go home for the moment. He's right by his car." He looked over at me as Lynn walked outside. "Veronica," he said.

"Deputy. Heard you were in on taking down a group of dognappers."

He smiled. "Yeah. Heard you had something to do with it too." I must have looked confused, because he said, "Ms. Manning filled me on your 'supervisory role.' Don't worry. The Sheriff will never hear about it from me."

"While you're here --" I said.

"Yes?"

"I'm guessing you didn't catch the shooter," I said, "Or there'd be a lot more commotion."

"No, we haven't."

"One more thing? And notice how I'm asking you openly this time as a mark of respect?"

"Yes, I do."

"Was it the same rifle as last time?"

"No, that one's still locked up in the evidence locker. Unless you've found a way to steal it, that is." The grin took part of the edge off his words. "Still a .22, though. At least from the caliber of the bullet."

"The shooter didn't leave the rifle behind this time?"

"No such luck."

"Thanks, Deputy."

He nodded and left. Logan commented, "You two seemed friendly."

"I used him shamelessly when I was still investigating Lilly's murder," I said. "I still feel kind of bad about it."

"He doesn't seem too horribly pissed off at you."

"Which either makes me the most charming woman on the planet or him one of the more forgiving men."

"Considering how my feelings about you have changed, I'm voting for option one," he said. "Anyway. Mother dearest needs to get home. Do you think you can get your Dad to come pick you up there? I'm not quite sure I want her to be by herself right now."

"Understandable."

We exited the shop. It seemed like Lamb was done with Lynn, so we got ready to follow her home.

I couldn't resist a parting shot at Lamb as I left. "Maybe this time you can actually try to arrest the right person. Might be a nice change of pace."

He glared at me but didn't say anything, turning back to bark some orders through his police radio.

"One thing is interesting, though," Logan said as we followed Lynn away from the scene of the shooting.

"Only one?"

"This second attack didn't happen until after Dick was cleared."

"Good point. What does that mean, though?"

"How should I know? You're the detective. I'm just the chauffeur." I stuck my tongue out at him. He said, "Don't stick that thing out at me, Machiavelli, unless you're ready to use it."

The tongue stayed out.

"I'm holding you to that promise," he said.

"I'm looking forward to it."

When we got to the estate, after we made sure Lynn was safely inside, I told Logan I was going to go outside for a minute before I called my father. I went out and stood where I'd been on the porch at the moment I'd been shot.

Trina was just pulling in. "Veronica, hi," she said as she stepped out of her car. "What are you doing?"

"You heard about what happened to Lynn, right?"

"Someone tried to kill her again when she was clothes shopping," Trina said. "I heard it on the radio on my drive home."

"So I'm conducting an experiment," I said. "Could you help?"

"Happy to. What do you need me to do?"

"Be me," I said.

"I'm a little tall for that," she said. "But I'll try."

"Just come over and stand right where I am."

"Not one of my more challenging roles," she said, but since she came over and stood there without complaint, I restrained myself from making any obvious wisecracks.

Dr. London had said that I'd been shot at from somewhere between 9 and 10 o'clock the way I was facing. I turned to my best guess of what 9:30 was and started walking. There was a small grove of trees in that general direction -- a little bit of semi-wilderness on an otherwise perfectly manicured landscape -- which would have provided the only concealment for whoever took the shot. I walked over into the trees, as far back as I could, and mimicked firing a rifle as best I could essentially one-armed, aiming a couple of inches below Trina's shoulder. (She was a bit taller than I was.) I moved from position to position until I found a spot that gave me a clear 'shot' and still left me as hidden as I could be..

It took me about ten minutes, during which Logan came out to see what was going on. Trina, apparently in the spirit of my impromptu reconstruction, told Logan to stand next to her, more or less, where he was standing during the press conference. This had actually made my task a little easier.

Whoever had done this had taken some time setting up the shot. I already knew it wasn't a spur-of the-moment thing -- very few people casually cart around rifles -- but this meant whoever had done this had gotten her early enough to study the scene -- and to do it without being detected by the other few hundred people who were soon to be wandering around.

It wasn't a breakthrough. But it was a piece of the puzzle.

I walked back to the porch and thanked Trina.

"Happy to help, Veronica," she said. "I'd like to know who keeps trying to kill my stepmother, too."

Then Logan and I went inside and I called my father.

X X X X X

"You were at the crime scene?" Dad asked in disbelief after he picked me up.

"I was in Logan's SUV when his mother called him," I said. "Did you want him to drop me on a random street or would you have been okay with him simply throwing me out as he slowed down to take a corner?"

"He could have dropped you off at home first. Or at the office. "

"It wasn't on the way and under the circumstances I wasn't about to ask him to take a detour."

"I guess not."

"All I did was see how Lynn was and ask Deputy Leo if they'd caught the person," I said. "And took a couple of shots at Lamb along the way, of course. Verbal shots. But you can hardly hold that against me."

"It's actually a point in your favor, sweetie," he said. "Anyway, I'm glad Lynn's okay."

"Me too. Believe me. Logan's trying to convince her to stay inside the house as much as she can and Lynn is saying how she'll be damned if she'll be intimidated into not speaking out."

"I think calling this intimidation is understating the issue."

"Well, go ahead and call her yourself. You're the professional; maybe you'll have more luck than Logan is."

And he went and did just that.

X X X X X

The next morning, it was a switch from the Mac-Logan-Dad triumvirate: Duncan dropped by to pick me up.

He seemed to be in a good mood. "So, you really think Meg did a good job?"

"How long have you known me, Duncan?" I asked. "Would I lie to her to make her feel better? Especially under these circumstances?"

"No," he said. "I just wanted to be sure."

"Well, consider yourself sure. She doesn't seem to think she's ready for her big move, yet; so the next case that comes up around here she's also going to take lead on."

"Good."

"So, are things going well between you and Meg?"

"I'd say so," he said. "She may not be quite the sweet and innocent girl she was when I started dating her . . . but you know what? I like that in her."

"And here I thought you were all about the fluffy and pink."

Duncan looked thoughtful for a second. "Try to take this in the right way, Veronica," he said. "And remember that I love Meg."

"I will," I said. "Go on,"

"She's kind of a combination of the you that used to be and the you that you've become. You know? She can be fluffy and pink when he wants to be -- and can be a detective, too, when she needs to, cynical and suspicious. But that's not her all the time."

"Ah. So I'm cynical, suspicious and bitter all the time. Thanks ever so much."

"Veronica --"

"Relax, Duncan," I said. "I know what you meant. And I kind of sometimes tend to agree with you. There are times I wish I could be a bit fluffier and pinker -- but I think that ship has not only sailed, it's reached its destination and the crew are all out looking for hookers."

"I think the world's a little better off with you the way you are," Duncan said.

"Maybe. But I think we both know what it took to get me this way."

"Yeah."

The rest of the ride to school was spent in an amiable if somber silence. Duncan helped me out of the car -- I can make it in and out myself but I'm not going to stop anyone who wants to be gallant about it -- and I walked in.

And there, right in front of me, was the person I'd been waiting a couple of days to talk to.

I walked up and put my right arm around her shoulders. "Hi, Vanessa," I said. "Can we talk?"


	60. Chapter 60

And now for the big revelation. I've been planting clues for a while now. But remember, this is Veronica Mars' universe. Never make assumptions.

Disclaimer: I own none of the characters or settings in this stories except the original ones.

Spike: "Don't you get it? Don't you see? You came back wrong."

-- _Buffy the Vampire Slayer_, episode "Smashed"

X X X X X

Vanessa took my arm off. "And if I don't want to talk to you?"

"I kind of think you do," I said. "Shall we go into my office or would you rather me accuse of you things out here in the hall where everyone can hear me?"

"Accuse me of what?"

"Step into my office and I'll tell you," I said. "Assuming you don't know already."

Vanessa rolled her eyes, said, "Whatever," and walked with me to the ladies' room. I put up the out of order sign before I walked in.

Leaning against the counter with a bored expression on her face, she said, "Whatever it is you think I did, just let me know flat out so I can either confess or tell you to go to hell."

"Are you sure you want me to do that?"

"Didn't I just tell you to?"

"Okay," I said. "Flat out you want, flat out you'll get. I think you shot me and you've been trying to kill Lynn Echolls."

She blinked and said, "You're out of your mind."

"That's one alternative," I said brightly. "The other is that you're an attempted murderer."

"Why the hell would you think that?"

"Let's see. Where should I begin? First, you threatened Lynn Echolls' life. Publicly. Online. Yeah, the moderators of that particular forum deleted it, but a threat's a threat. Second. You've got reason to be pissed off at Lynn Echolls -- though I wouldn't have thought you were such a big fan of Aaron, seeing how quickly you were willing to pimp out those videotapes for some spare cash --"

"Aaron was a great man," Vanessa said. "Too much for one woman to be able to satisfy." She looked at me sourly. "Anyway, I _didn't_ want to sell those videotapes but you kind of left me no other choice. I was _trying_ to blackmail Logan by threatening to expose his mother."

"Which still would have made Aaron look bad."

"He already looked bad," Vanessa said. "There were women coming out almost every day with new stories about their secret love affairs with Aaron Echolls. All I would have done was made Lynn look bad too."

"Still didn't notice much hesitation about actually selling the tapes," I said.

"Like I said, he already looked bad. The tapes added exactly nothing to the conversation and $100,000 to my personal bank account."

"You're lucky you didn't do it while Aaron was alive. He'd've killed you."

"And I'd have deserved it if he had," she said.

She did _not_ just say that. "So, you're saying," I said, "It's not so much that Aaron Echolls didn't kill my best friend, but that my best friend got what was coming to her." I shook my head. "What is it about this bastard?"

"Disappointed you didn't get a taste?" Vanessa said acidly.

"I'd sooner taste cyanide," I snapped back.

"So I know you don't think I shot you based on just that," Vanessa said.

"I think a publicly stated death threat is a pretty good start," I said.

Vanessa sighed exaggeratedly. "Veronica, I was one of maybe two dozen people just on that forum who did that," she said. "What makes you think it was me?"

"Because the only other person who would have had time is an 85-year old woman who can't drive and is functionally blind without her glasses," I said. "I don't care how pissed off AechollsFan29 in New Jersey is -- there's no way he would have had the time to round up a killer in Neptune. And this would be the case even if Aechollsfan29 was Tony Soprano." In any event, that there was any kind of professional assassin involved seemed so unlikely as to be almost impossible. A professional might miss once; they weren't going to miss three times. Not unless we were dealing with the most incompetent assassin on the planet.

"Any district attorney in the country would laugh at you," Vanessa said. "Hello? My parents are mystery writers and they've shoved every book they've ever written down my throat. I have some vague knowledge of how the legal system works."

"Then you've heard of motive, means, opportunity," I said. "So far I've got you nailed on the first one –" she didn't argue that particular point – and I think I've got you on opportunity. It's means I'm a little shaky on, but I'm guessing someone with boatloads of money isn't going to be having problems rustling up a couple of .22s on command."

"If I knew anything about guns, no," she said.

"I thought you said your parents were mystery writers and that made you an expert," I said innocently.

"I've also read about forensics; that doesn't make me Gil Grissom." Vanessa looked at me. "Anyway, opportunity?"

"You were, conveniently, off yesterday. At first I thought it was just an attack of senioritis but then Lynn got shot while she was shopping for clothes."

"Huh. Is that what she was doing? They didn't say that on the news, but it figures. Someone like that—"

I shook my head. "That's not really important. What is important is that you had plenty of time yesterday to follow her around and wait for the right opportunity. Right as she was coming out of a store would have been perfect."

"You're out of your mind, Veronica," she said. "I didn't follow her around yesterday."

I caught it immediately. "Not yesterday? So when _did_ you follow her around?" She didn't answer. I said, "You spraypainted her windshield and left that nasty note inside her car."

"Okay, fine. I did that. You've caught my evil plan. Put the handcuffs on, officer, and send me away for vandalism. Wow. A whole $500 fine. Ow. Veronica, this slap on the wrist hurts."

"Snide is not a tool for the inexperienced, Vanessa. Now you've admitted to threatening her twice."

"I called her a bitch and told her to quit lying about Aaron," she said.

"I'm fairly sure there's a strong 'or else' implied in 'Stop lying about Aaron Echolls, bitch.'"

"I was just blowing smoke," she said. "Anyway, this was way back when everyone thought Dick Junior was the one who'd tried to kill you."

"Yeah, funny how the second attempt came after the fact that he wasn't became public knowledge."

"And yet," she said, "There I was, vandalizing her car. Smart of me to call attention to myself like that, wasn't it? You know, being an attempted murderer and all."

Sometimes, just when you think you're on that stretch run towards figuring out what happened, your horse decides to jump the rail and go running off in another direction.

Because, dammit, she had a good point.

"So, if you weren't stalking Lynn Echolls, where were you?"

She reached into her purse. I tensed up for a second and instinctively reached for my taser, then relaxed when what she pulled out was a pill bottle of some sort. As I put my taser away, she tossed it over to me.

It was a prescription for Nexium.

"Do you know where I was yesterday?" she said. "I've been having chest pains – and yes, I'm eighteen, but I know chest pains aren't something you mess around with. Especially not when three of my grandparents died of heart attacks in their early '50s. When I could barely get to sleep at all the night before last I went and checked myself into the emergency room. This would have been about ten o'clock. By the time they ran every test under the sun they finally determined that no, I was not in fact having a heart attack, that what I had was GERD. So they wrote me out a prescription for the Nexium and that was that." I looked at the bottle; the prescription had indeed been filled yesterday. "On the off chance you care, my chest feels a lot better today."

"I'm glad for you," I muttered, handing her back the bottle. Even when you were rich, getting run through an emergency room for chest pains couldn't have been a quick experience – and it was very, _very_ easy to check up on.

"So," she said, "Are you convinced now that I didn't try to kill Lynn Echolls?"

"Yes," I said, sighing. "But I still don't like you."

As she breezed past me to the ladies' room door, she said, "Mutual feeling, Veronica Mars," and left me alone with my thoughts.

And now I was officially out of suspects. I had a whole lot of facts – and one half-remembered phrase distorted through the prism of the Buffyverse. "She came back wrong." Still, every way I'd tried of putting them together so far had failed.

There had to be something I was missing. But what?

X X X X X

The rest of the school day was kind of a blur after that. Nothing like having your dramatic reveal thrown back in your face to kill the mood.

After school, Logan took me over to his house. When we got there, Trina and Lynn were on their way out the door.

"Mother," Logan said disapprovingly.

"Logan, Logan," Trina said. "Relax, silly. I'm going to take her shopping for bodyguards."

"How exactly does one shop for bodyguards?" I asked. "I mean, do they have them laid out like produce? Three armed guards for a dollar, musclebound types fifty cents a pound?"

"There are a couple of agencies here in town. Veronica, when your father called me the other night he persuaded me to go this route if I insisted on leaving the estate. I asked him, but he said he's not really a bodyguard type."

Trina said, " Right. Look how well he did for Dad." I glared at her, which in typical Trina fashion she completely ignored.

"And no, Logan," Lynn went on, "These people your father recommended are more than cannon fodder. They check routes, they keep places secure, and so on. They're there for more than just throwing themselves in front of bullets."

"And what are you getting out of this?"

"The knowledge that my stepmother is safe and secure."

"And . . .?" Logan asked pointedly.

Trina sighed, "Okay, I told my agent about it. I thought it might make me look good. Lynn and I disagreeing about something yet I'm still willing to help protect her life."

"That's what I thought," Logan said.

"Be quiet, Logan," Lynn said. "She's still taking me. No matter what her motives are she's still doing it."

After a couple of seconds, Logan said, "Be careful."

"Don't worry," Trina said. "No one else is going to try to shoot Lynn. I promise you that."

"No one had better," Logan said, and Trina and Lynn left.

Logan turned to me, "Well, that was a bit of a buzzkill."

"Not in the mood?"

"Not at the moment," he said. "Since we're here . . ."

"I don't think I've seen the entire house," I said. "Maybe you could give me the grand tour? Maybe something in there will . . . inspire you."

"You really think seeing my Mom's private bathroom will turn me on? You're sick, Mars."

"Okay, maybe something will inspire me."

"That worries me even more."

I laughed. "Shut up and give me the tour."

It was fairly routine until we came to a room I'd never been into before. "This is the family trophy room," he said. "Which makes it mostly my father's trophy room." He opened the door.

There was a fake fireplace with Aaron Echolls' two Academy Awards, three Golden Globes, and an Emmy.

"When did your father win an Emmy?" I asked.

"Guest shot on _Wings_."

There were a couple of things for Logan and Trina, and nothing whatsoever for Lynn. This was basically a monument to the greatness that was Aaron Echolls.

The highlight of the room, though, was clearly the deer heads mounted on the wall, a couple of other animals, and some photographs on the walls beneath the deer of proud hunters holding up their kills.

I asked, "You responsible for any of these? I remember you mentioning those father-son hunting trips your dad and Big and Little Dick Casablancas went on."

"No, I tended not to like to go on those things," Logan said. "Not that I'm a vegetarian, but the concept of personally making something suffer so I can be heap big macho man and stick a rack of antlers on my wall never appealed. Just another way to disappoint my father, I guess."

"Hmmm." As I looked around the room, I looked at the heads on the wall and the stuffed and mounted mountain lion, frozen forever in a snarling leap. Ten would get you a hundred that Aaron had shot the thing while it was running away. It suited him, shooting something in the back.

I also glanced at the photographs of the proud hunters holding up their trophies. I looked a little more closely at one of the pictures.

My mouth went dry.

"Logan," I said. "I know who's trying to kill your mother."

"Who?"

"I can't believe I didn't figure this out earlier." Logan came over and looked at the picture I was looking at. "No," he said.

"It has to be. Think about it. And -- and there's --"

"There's what?" Logan asked.

"After I was shot. Everyone came into the house -- you, Lynn, Dad, even Clarence Weidman. And then Trina, who had been sulking inside, came up to see what had happened."

"Then she ran out to find a doctor. I remember. What's your point?"

"Trina was out of breath," I said. "Out of breath from where, three rooms away? Don't you get it? Don't you see? _She came back wrong."_


	61. Chapter 61

Two people, one scene. A bit shorter than some of my recent ones, but I couldn't see breaking it off anywhere else.

Some people have asked if this is another fakeout. I think you'll learn the answer in this chapter.

Disclaimer: Rob Thomas created the town of Neptune and most of its residents, charming and otherwise. I am not Rob Thomas.

X X X X X

The picture I was looking at showed two people.

A somewhat younger Aaron Echolls, grinning widely, holding a rifle in his left hand in front of him with its butt end on the ground. His arm was around his companion, also holding a rifle. A dead deer lay on the ground in front of them. Aaron and his companion were both grinning widely.

Logan had said _he'd_ never gone on these outings very often. It had been my stupid assumption when Logan first brought this up that he had. Once he said he hadn't, it should have occurred to me that Trina's gone in his place. But it hadn't until I saw the picture.

There was Trina at maybe the age of 14, standing there looking as though she'd just won the Academy award.

The caption underneath read, "Trina's first solo kill."

I would have bet my chance at heaven that the rifles they were using were .22's.

"Answer me this, Logan," I said. "How many of these father-child hunting trips did Trina go on?"

"Once a year," Logan said. "Minimum. And she has a hunting license herself and goes a couple of times a year on her own." Which meant she at least knew how to use a rifle without blowing her own hand off. It didn't say much for her aim, but not everyone who knows how to use a gun can be an expert at it. Logan continued, "But she wouldn't, Veronica. I mean, I'm hardly Trina's biggest fan, but her sins are in loving Daddy Dearest and publicity too much and everyone else too little. She's not a psychopath."

"Okay. Then why was she out of breath when she ran up after the shooting?"

"I don't know," Logan said.

"Did she look like she'd been exercising?" I persisted.

When Logan didn't answer, I said, "How did she know that Lynn had been shot coming out of a clothing store? This morning, Vanessa Mencken said that detail hadn't been on the radio."

"Maybe Trina saw it on TV."

"In her _car_?"

"Or maybe it was on one of the other radio stations."

"One way to find out if it was released." I picked up my cell phone and called the balboa County Sheriff's Office. "Inga!" I said. "Hi, it's Veronica Mars. Could I speak to Deputy Leo D'Amato for just a second?" Whispered to Logan: "She's putting me through." Then: "Hi, Leo. Yes, I have another favor to ask. Would it help I said you're the best-looking deputy there?" To Logan: "He says that's not much of a compliment."

"He's right," Logan said.

"Well, it doesn't matter, it's still true," I told Leo. "Anyway. About yesterday's shooting – no, I'm not asking for any private information. I just want to know what you told the public. Specifically, if your statement mentioned what Lynn Echolls was doing when she was being shot at."

There was a sound of rustling papers from the other end of the phone. Leo told me that no, in none of the official statements – or the press conference – did they mention that she'd been shopping. They said that it took place "As Lynn Echolls was walking down Breaker Avenue."

"Thanks, Leo," I said, and hung up. I told Logan what the deputy had told me. "And this was about an hour or so after the shooting," I said. "I caught Trina before she had a chance to go inside or talk to you or Lynn about what had happened."

"What about her cell phone?" Logan asked.

"What, Don Lamb called her directly from the crime scene? Not likely, Logan, and you know it. There weren't even any news crews there by the time we left. And there's more. When I was doing that reconstruction yesterday –"

"With Trina's help," he said.

"With Trina's help. I'm guessing that she didn't think it would help me any. Anyway, it took me a good ten minutes to find a spot where I'd have a clear shot at where Lynn was standing. It's a small grove of trees, but trying to find a place where I wouldn't accidentally end up firing into the crowd but I could still easily be seen wasn't easy."

"Anyone with ten spare minutes could have done it."

"Trina lived on this estate for how long?" I asked. "She could have found it in about thirty seconds. Especially being an experienced hunter. And with hundreds of people milling around on the front lawn the last thing anyone else would have wanted to do is be visibly moving through the underbrush."

"She was wearing kind of muted clothing that day," he admitted.

"Let's try another experiment," I said, and Logan and I walked out into the living room. "Do you remember where Trina was when she was sulking?"

"Sitting by the pool in the backyard," Logan said.

"Good. You stay in the living room – I'll look at you so you can signal me when to go – and I'll come in here as fast as I can.

"This isn't a digital watch," Logan said. "No stopwatch function."

"Ballpark it. We're not timing someone going for the world record in the hundred-meter dash." Then I went out into the backyard, turned one of the lounge chairs around, and lay down it. About thirty seconds later, I saw Logan wave his arms and I pushed myself up and sprinted to the living room.

It took me about twenty-five seconds. When I got there, I was breathing slightly heavily, a fact Logan pointed out.

"But I'm not 'out of breath," I said.

"No," he said, frowning. "You're not."

"And if Trina had simply been in the backyard and come running in here at the first sign of trouble, she would have been there a lot faster than she actually was. My memory's kind of fuzzy, admittedly."

"Maybe," he said. I understood Logan. He was having a hard time grasping the concept that his sister could have inherited more from their father than a lack of acting ability. Then, "Are you being careful with your shoulder?"

"I am. It makes it a little awkward not being able to pump my left arm, but I'll manage. Now for the second part of the experiment." We walked to the front door. "I'm going out to the little thicket of trees and taking my position. Signal me and I'll pretend to fire a shot, drop the rifle, and run around the house."

I walked out to the small stand of trees, found the same I'd been in yesterday when I'd 'fired' at Trina, and got into position.

In the doorway, Logan raised his hand and lowered it quickly. I fired my pretend rifle, dropped it, and took off running around the back of the house. I took what seemed to me to be the shortest route, even though I have no idea whether or not that's the way Trina ran, because I was trying to play this as conservatively as I could.

I opened the back door as quickly as I could, then went inside and ran straight for the living room.

This time, my breathing was substantially heavier. And from a standing start it had taken me slightly over at a minute at a dead run, except for those few seconds it had taken me to get the back door open.

"It took you more than thirty seconds to get me inside and on the couch," I said. "I'm sure of that. If Trina came running as soon as she could she would have probably beaten us to the living room. Instead, she didn't show up until I was already on the couch."

"She could have waited when she heard the gunshot."

"But none of that explains why she was so out of breath," I persisted. "If you need more evidence, I've got some. When I talked to her agent, the agent told me that he tried to convince Trina that she'd make more money if Lynn accused Aaron than if she kept quiet about it. But Trina didn't listen; she was really, _really_ pissed and went out and spread the word about Lynn's revelation before the press conference. And Trina's all about getting herself good publicity. Not that she hasn't been doing the rounds since, but still, you'd've thought that would make her _happy_ that she was about to get all that free hype."

"She loved Aaron that much?"

"I think so," I said. "Tell me. Did he ever abuse her?"

A long period of silence, then a very quiet, "No. Never."

"Quick review: She's been angry at Lynn for a while – even before Lynn decided to go public and accuse Aaron Echolls of being a killer, remember?"

"It all started with the script," Logan said.

"Exactly. And then Lynn decides to go public about Aaron having killed Lilly, mentioning oh by the way that he abused you and her along the way. The dozens of affairs were already public knowledge, but that can't exactly have helped Trina's sanity. So she tries to really support against it, but when her own agent tries to get her to back down and only a couple of local people seem as angry as she is, she decides to do something herself."

"Where'd she get the rifle from?" Logan asked.

And that was a good question. Trina was still talking to people at 5:30, and from all accounts she never left the estate. The only thing I could think of was that she already had an unlicensed weapon or two lying around – or maybe Aaron had. A little extra cash could easily get past the paperwork required to buy a rifle, and even in California it was easier to purchase rifles than handguns. Rifles weren't typically the weapon of choice for murderers. On balance, though, this was the weakest part of my argument. I explained my reasoning to Logan, and he said, "Wouldn't put it past either of them."

"And she certainly knows how to use a rifle," I said. "She's been hunting, she's killed deer. That she's shot at Lynn three times and missed only means she's not a particularly good shot."

"I don't think that first rifle had a scope," Logan said. "She would have been trying to take the shot with her naked eye."

"Maybe all three times. The police didn't find the second rifle." I paused. "And then there's the climax of my argument."

"She came back wrong."

"Exactly. So you believe me now?"

"It's just – I don't –" then he got quiet for a second and said, "God damn it."

I went over and hugged him. I couldn't possibly know what he was going through. To find out that his abusive father had been a murder had been a shock – but one that couldn't have been completely unexpected. But to find out that the sister you thought of as clueless and non-malicious, and whom you loved dearly despite disliking her intensely, had ambitions to imitate dear old Dad – that was something I could never understand.

"So, what do we do next?" he said.

"Trina left with your mother about an hour ago," I said. "I think we need to find her."

"Call the Sheriff's Department?"

"No. Lamb wouldn't listen to either of us. But we call everyone else who might have seen them. And I mean everyone." I clasped Logan's hands. "We'll find her, Logan," I said, meaning Lynn.

"And then we'll kill her," Logan said, obviously not.


	62. Chapter 62

The hunt begins.

Disclaimer: Didn't create 'em. Don't own 'em.

X X X X X

I didn't bother correcting Logan; there were more important things to do.

"Do you know where your father kept his guns?"

"Yes."

"Go see if you can tell if anything else is missing. After you're done, call Duncan," I said. "Get him to call Meg, if she's not with him already. Then call Mac. I'll be calling Wallace and Weevil."

"What about your father?'

"I'm kind of saving that one for last."

Logan ran off towards the trophy room and I took out my cell phone.

"Weevil," came the greeting on the other end of the phone.

"Weevil, it's Veronica."

"What's up, V?"

"I need you to do something for me. If you can get the PCH'ers in on it, I'll pay them."

"What do you need?"

"I need you to find Trina Echolls." I described her car quickly. Weevil knew her by sight, so he could describe her to the PCH'ers if necessary.

"Why you so hot to find her?"

"Because I think she's the one who shot me," I said, and briefly explained why. "And –"

"I'll find the bitch and kill her myself," Weevil said.

"No," I said sharply. "Aaron Echolls and Beaver Casablancas have already gotten away with what they've done. This 'bitch' is going to pay publicly with everyone knowing what the hell she did, instead of having people debate it on the news like they're doing with Aaron and Beaver." Even if the Neptune Sheriff's office got off their collective hindquarters and finally came out with a statement saying they thought Aaron Echolls had indeed killed Lilly, that wouldn't be the end of it. It wouldn't matter if God himself descended from the clouds and proclaimed Aaron Echolls guilty to all the peoples of the world; if people could still debate whether Fatty Arbuckle had raped and murdered Virginia Rappe 85 years later, they'd certainly be debating this one long after everyone involved was dead.

A period of silence on the other end, then, "Okay, V. I'll play it your way for the moment. But I ain't guaranteeing she'll be in pristine condition."

"I'm not expecting miracles," I said. "Just leave enough of her left to stand trial. And tell your boys that it'll be three hundred bucks to whoever finds her."

I hung up. Logan was back, and looking at me. "Nothing seems to be missing from the gun cabinet," he said. "I'm not that familiar with it. Maybe a couple of boxes of ammunition, but wherever Trina got her weapons from it wasn't Dad. Also, Duncan and Meg dropped whatever they were doing and they're out there scouring the streets for Trina's car now."

"So're Weevil and his boys."

We nodded and I punched in Wallace's number. "Wallace. Hi."

"Why do I think this is a favor call?" he said in that tone of his that was equal parts mock and real aggravation.

"Please don't complain about that, this time. You can rim me out all you want to later but this is important."

"All ears." He instantly got serious. Then I explained what was going on.

"I'm carless at the moment," he said. "But I'll do whatever I can on foot."

"Thanks, BFF."

"And Veronica? This isn't a favor. I'm happy to be doing this. Believe me."

It took Logan a bit longer, but once he hung up he said, "Mac's looking."

"So's Wallace, but he's kind of on foot," I said. "Can you think of anyone else?"

We really couldn't. I thought maybe Cliff, but a quick call to his office revealed that he was in court today, which scratched that idea.

And now for the hard part.

"Dad?"

"Hi, sweetie."

"Are you busy right now?'

"Battling the evil of paperwork; otherwise, no. What's up?"

"Promise me that you'll yell at me later."

He said, suspiciously, "Veronica –"

"Promise me," I insisted. "This is too important for me to have to deal with what's going on and you being angry at me about it."

He sighed. "I promise."

"I know who shot me." I closed my eyes – a reflex action – and waited for the inevitable explosion.

When five seconds later, Dad still hadn't said anything, I said, "Dad? Are you still there?"

"Still here, Veronica," he said, clearly not happy. "And not yelling at you. But if you don't start explaining I'm not guaranteeing my future actions."

And so I spelled everything out. Wallace and Weevil had been content with the thirty-second explanation; Dad made me give every single one of my reasons, challenged me on certain points, made me clarify my thinking, and when we were done said, "You've convinced me."

"I have?" From the way he'd been questioning me I was operating on the assumption that he thought I'd lost my mind.

"Not that you'd convince a jury, yet. But I'm with you."

"Good." Bullet dodged. So to speak. "So, when Trina and Lynn left about a half hour ago, they said they were on their way to see a bodyguard agency you recommended . . .?"

"Lehane," he said. "I set up the appointment for her. I'll give them a call." He put me on hold.

"Logan, we should get going ourselves," I said. "Do you know anywhere around here Trina might go for privacy?"

"A couple of places," he said. "We're not exactly the best of friends, remember."

"We'll check there first."

"Veronica?" came Dad's voice from the other end of the phone. "Good instincts. Lynn was supposed to be there fifteen minutes ago."

Damn. "I guess we'd better eliminate the 'stuck in traffic' possibility. Do you have Lynn's cell number?"

"I'll make that call, too," he said. "I'll let you know and go from there. And Veronica –"

"Yes?"

"If you find Trina and Lynn and you have the slightest inkling that _anything_ is wrong, call me. I understand why you're not calling Lamb right now – he probably wouldn't believe us if we brought him pictures of Osama bin Laden bedded down at the Neptune Grand – but call me. No grandstand plays."

"I'll do my best," I said.

"Veronica –" he said.

"Dad, that's the best you're going to get out of me right now. I will do my best. I have an injured shoulder and I'm not an action hero even in the best of health. But I'm not going to stand idly by."

He sighed. "Be careful. I love you."

"I love you too, Dad." After a second. "Hold it. Before I hang up. If you do need to call someone in the Sheriff's Department, try the newest deputy."

"Leo D'Amato?" Dad asked. "Veronica, he's practically raw."

"Yeah, but he actually seems to be one of the good guys – unlike Lamb or Sacks." I didn't think Sacks was evil by any stretch of the imagination, but anyone willing to take prostitute services as bribes wasn't exactly high on my list of "Most reliable people in Neptune." I continued, "In any event, he might actually listen to you if you can get word to him without Lamb knowing about it."

"It's worth a shot," he said. "I'll get back to you in a minute about Lynn."

I said goodbye and turned to Logan. "Let's go."

Dad called me back about thirty seconds after we'd gotten into the SUV. "No answer from Lynn's cell phone. I left a neutral message just asking her to call me back."

I had a thought. "Logan, do you know if Trina's car has Lojack?"

He shook his head. "No clue."

"Want to try that, Dad?"

"It's worth a shot. I'll let you know." He hung up again.

"I think we should try to call Trina," I said.

"What?"

"She can't possibly know we're looking for her," I said. "The only thing she might possibly know is that my father was trying to get in touch with Lynn for some reason. So I'll just call and ask whether she dropped Lynn off at Lehane."

"And it's going to have to be you," Logan said. "If I talk to her right now I'll start screaming."

"Don't you think I want to do the same thing?" I whispered.

"Of course you do," Logan said. "But you're better at hiding it than most people." He snorted. "Hell, Machiavelli, you're a better actor than my father ever was. If you wanted to make that you career, you probably could."

I smiled in acknowledgement of the compliment, and then dialed Trina's number.

After three rings, she picked up. "Trina Echolls," she said.

"Hello, Trina," I said.

"Veronica. Hi. What do you want?" She didn't betray a hint of concern or anxiety.

"Just checking up on Lynn," I said. "Logan and I wanted to be sure she made it to Lehane with no problems."

"I'm still here, aren't I?" She said. "I appreciate your concern, Veronica, really. And I know Lynn does too. I dropped her off about twenty minutes ago and I'm doing a little shopping in the area while I wait."

"Thanks, Trina," I said. "Tell Lynn to call me when you pick her up – I'd just like to see how it went."

"Certainly," she said. "Talk to you later."

I told Logan, "She just lied to me – said she'd dropped Lynn off 20 minutes ago. I think it's time we revised our opinion of her acting ability." After a second, "Now. Where might she want to go?"

"There's somewhere she likes to go when she jogs," he said. "A park not that far out of town, but not really a touristy place. And then there's the hunting cabin about an hour of town."

"Is the park on the way to the cabin?"

"Not that far out of it," Logan said.

"We'll try there first."

"Why wouldn't you think she'd take her to a hotel room somewhere?"

"Patterns," I said. "Trina's tried twice, with rifles both times."

"We don't know she doesn't have a handgun," he said.

"We have to hope she doesn't," I said. I didn't need to explain why. Nor, I suspect, would Logan have wanted to hear my reasoning why it wouldn't have been anything else -- because they mostly involved the disposal of the body. It's not like I was particularly fond of the idea myself.

We got to the park in about fifteen minutes, and drove around the outside.

There were a few other joggers and dogwalkers in the area -- not many, but enough to make it clear that this was a lousy place for a quiet execution.

My phone rang. It was Weevil. "V. About ten minutes ago one of my boys saw what looked like Trina Echolls' car going up County Road 17 northeast of town. He went past it and there was a woman in the driver's seat with short red hair. He stayed with her for a few minutes, but she looked like she was gettin' suspicious so he pulled into a gas station."

"Hold on a second." Then, to Logan: "Is the road to your father's hunting lodge somewhere up County Road 17."

"Yeah," Logan said. "I didn't go often but I remember that much."

"Weevil, who saw this?"

"Armando." Armando had seemed to be one of the nicer members of Weevil's gang -- I'd met him a couple of times. He was more in it for the motorcycles than the general thuggery.

"Armando just earned himself three hundred dollars. If there's any chance he can find them again, he can get himself another hundred."

"I'll let him know, V, but I ain't promising any miracles. They've been out of his sight now ten, twelve minutes."

"Just tell him to do the best he can."

Then I called Wallace and told him he could stop looking; that we knew where they were headed. He said he was sorry he couldn't have done more, and I told him not to worry about it.

I tried to reach Dad, but got his voice mail, so I left him a message "Dad: we think she's headed up to Aaron Echolls' hunting lodge off county road 17." I got the directions from Logan and relayed them. "We're going up there now. Don't worry; we're playing it safe."

Then, as Logan sped up, I called Meg and Duncan -- they were clear on the other side of Neptune -- and then Mac -- she was closest. I gave them all the directions that Logan had given me.

We drove in silence for the next 25 minutes or so. As we passed a gas station I saw Armando parked there, and I told Logan to pull over.

"Veronica," he said. "Ain't seen the woman since. I looked around but couldn't find her."

"Don't worry, Armando," I said. "You'll get the three hundred. I appreciate the effort. We know where we're going from here."

I thanked Armando once again and we took off.

Ten minutes later we were on a dirt road. "Okay, Logan," I said. "Stop here."

"We're still a half-mile away."

"So what, you want to warn her we're coming? _Pull over_." He did. "So," I said, "Here's what we're not going to do. We're not going to go charging in there at top speed screaming at the top of our lungs. Because I'm not interested in getting shot again. What we are going to do is walk quietly until we're within a few hundred feet of the lodge, and then we're going to try to creep through the woods to see what's going on." We were sufficiently far back in the woods that no one would have heard a stray rifle shot or two. "If we get the impression something's about to go horribly wrong, then all bets are off. Until then --"

"Until then," Logan said. We walked up the road a ways until we saw the "lodge" -- and if you're thinking it was a log cabin, you probably get most of your information about hunting from old Bugs Bunny cartoons. Not that I'm an expert. But someone like Aaron Echolls, no matter how much of a he-man mentality he liked to project, wasn't going to be roughing it in a log cabin. It was an a-frame that had a satellite dish attached to the outside, and the first floor looked to be as big as the entire Mars apartment. Trina's car was parked out front.

We made our way through the woods until we were at the edge of the clearing. The a-frame had a large front window; we could see Lynn sitting on a chair, maybe tied to it, I couldn't tell.

"Go around the edge," I told Logan. "See if you see Trina."

He nodded and wordlessly began circling the clearing.

I watched quietly for ten minutes, but no change. Logan didn't come back either.

I was reaching for my phone to check on Dad's progress when a voice behind me brought me up short.

"Veronica. Hi."


	63. Chapter 63

I haven't been giving my chapters titles, but if I did, this one would be called "The Last Action Hero."

Also: I do something in this chapter that I don't think I've done in any of the previous 62 parts.

Disclaimer: I am not Rob Thomas, the genius who created _Veronica Mars_. I am merely Mediancat, who seems to, for the moment at least, have the longest single _Veronica Mars_ fanfic on this website.

Okay, that's not so much a disclaimer as bragging.

X X X X X

No points if you guess who it was.

I turned around and saw, yes, Trina Echolls standing about fifteen feet away from with her rifle pointed in my general direction. She wasn't in a firing stance, but I wasn't foolish enough to make a charge at her, and I wouldn't have been even if I could have used my left shoulder for something more than hanging one arm of my blouse on.

"You're pretty clever, Veronica. I have to give you that."

"Thanks for the compliment."

She chuckled. "I know you're not looking for compliments from me right now. But I have to say, Veronica: I was starting to get a little bored waiting for you and Logan to come charging up here in that bright yellow monster he drives. I was wondering if maybe you weren't going to come at all. And then I see you moving through the woods. Like I said, pretty clever." She gestured with the rifle. "Now, out into the clearing, please. I know these woods pretty well and I wouldn't like to have my brother come rushing at me in a misguided attempt to try to rescue you."

I wouldn't have exactly called it misguided, but then, I wasn't the one holding the rifle.

Realizing my mind had gone into babble mode, I looked up. "Still waiting," she said.

The good news is that Trina hadn't simply summarily executed me, and she could have easily done that. So she was waiting for something.

Still, I didn't want to get her angry. Rule number one about being a detective: Never piss off the person carrying the gun.

I moved out into the clearing. When I was about thirty feet from the front door – Trina told me to stop. Inside the house, I could now clearly see that Lynn was tied – loosely – to the chair she was sitting in.

"Logan!" Trina yelled, and this time she did get into a firing stance, pointing the rifle directly at my chest. "I know you can hear me, brother dear. I've got my rifle pointed right at Veronica and if I don't see you in thirty seconds –

Another reason for us to be out in the clearing, where we were. There was nowhere for Logan to sneak. Even if he used the cover of the hunting lodge and Trina's car, he would have had to run a good forty feet in the open before he'd reach Trina.

"That'd be twenty," Trina said. Then, exactly five seconds later, "Fifteen!"

"You can knock off the dramatics, Trina," Logan said from somewhere behind me. "I'm here."

Smiling, Trina said, "Knock off the dramatics? But they've worked so well for me." Then, laughing – a laugh, that, chillingly, was full of genuine amusement – she said, "And you all thought I was a horrible actress. I've managed to fool all of you for weeks now." She looked at Logan. "What, brother? No snarky comments?"

"Not when you've got a rifle pointed at me, no."

Trina laughed again. "I'm beginning to think I should have done this earlier." After a second, "Logan, be a sweetie and go get your SUV and bring it back here. And please, throw me your cell phone. You too, Veronica."

Logan did so, with a sour expression on his face. I followed a half second later. "And in case you get any ideas about taking off for help, remember, angry sister, girlfriend, big gun. I want you back here in – she looked at her watch – eight minutes." Trina had it timed well. It had taken us about eight minutes to walk the half mile or so here. Logan wouldn't have time to do anything more than exactly what Trina had asked.

And we didn't have any spare phones, either. At this point, my hope was that Dad had gotten the call and was on his way up here. Preferably backed by a platoon of marines. Though at this point in terms of rescue I'd settle for Don Lamb. Although the odds were even between him helping me or simply standing back and laughing. Maybe he'd arrest Trina for illegal discharge of a firearm. Or hunting without a license.

"Trina, can I ask you a question?"

Lowering the rifle, she said, "Of course you can."

"How did you know we were coming?"

"Oh, Veronica, Veronica," she said. "You're clever but even you make mistakes."

"Such as?"

"When you called me you asked how things had gone at Lehane. I heard the entire conversation; Lynn never mentioned the name of the agency, and I didn't either. And since you seemed all surprised I was guessing your father hadn't mentioned it either." Damn. She was right.

"You said mistakes."

"The second is trusting members of Eli Navarro's gang who aren't actually, you know, Eli Navarro."

"Armando called you." It wasn't a question.

She laughed. "Of course he did. What could the three hundred you were paying him compare to the thousand I said I'd pay him if he called and told when you were on your way?" So, let's review: I'd pegged Trina as harmless and not having a malicious bone in her body, and Armando as being basically a nice guy. I was beginning to think that maybe my ability to judge people's characters wasn't quite as impressive as I'd thought.

"So what next?"

"Well, first we wait for Logan to come back," she said.

"And then?"

"And then? Veronica, life is not, in fact, anything like the movies. I am not Ernst Stavro Blofeld and I will not be explaining my evil plan to you."

"Whatever the plan is," I said, "It had better be a fast one. My father and half a dozen other people know where we are."

"Why do you think I haven't crushed your cell phones? Oh, Veronica, you can be so naïve sometimes. Once Logan gets back here you're going to call them and tell them it was a false alarm."

"And then just stand around and wait for you to kill us?"

"Who said I was going to kill you?"

"I think the rifle you're carrying might have mentioned it."

She just smiled enigmatically.

A few minutes later, Logan drove up and got out, shooting Trina a dirty look as he did

"Now," she said, "Pick up the phones and go inside, please. And move back from the door."

Logan held the door for me and then rushed over to check over Lynn. Apart from being tied up – which included a gag – she seemed to be okay.

Of course, that condition wasn't likely to last long, under the circumstances. I actually wondered why Trina hadn't simply summarily shot her as soon as she got her here.

Or why Logan and I weren't dead already.

The only thing I could think of was that Trina was waiting for something.

But what?

The inside of the cabin was half classic hunting lodge, half luxury resort. There were a couple of more deer heads on the walls, a full although small kitchen, and a giant flat-screen TV on one wall. Nothing that looked immediately useful,

"Okay, Logan," Trina said. "You've had enough time to look at Lynn. Now sit down on the couch –" she pointed to the couch in front of the television – "and start calling people."

She tossed us our cell phones.

In a flash of inspiration, I called Wallace first.

"Veronica?" he said. "Is everything okay?"

"Yeah," I said. "Just wanted to let you know you can call off the search."

I paused for just a half second, long enough for him to say, "You already told me that."

"Yes, I did," I said. "The hunting cabin thing? False alarm." Please be quick on the uptake Wallace, please . . .

"There's something wrong, isn't there?" Yes! I knew he was my BFF for a reason!

"Absolutely. Talk to you later."

As I moved to hang up, I heard him say, "I'm calling your father."

Then, to delay that, I called Weevil. "Yo, V."

"False alarm," I said. "The car wasn't Trina's."

"It wasn't?'

"Nope. Your boy Armando's out three hundred." And out a lot more, if I ever get the chance to tell Weevil how he sold me out.

"Damn. Sorry about that, V. We'll keep looking."

Then I called my father. Logan had already put down his phone. "Dad?"

"Veronica. Wallace just called. I'm on my way. So's the Sheriff's Department."

"It was a false alarm," I said. "Trina's not at the hunting cabin. Logan and I are going to keep looking."

"I'll be up there as soon as I can. Stall her."

"Yeah, that's a good place to look," I said. "Talk to you later."

"Love you," he said.

"You too," I said, and hung up.

"I wasn't able to get in touch with Mac," Logan said. "But Duncan and Meg got the message loud and clear."

"So did Weevil, Wallace, and Dad." I wished like hell I could find some way to let Logan know that help was still on the way, but I couldn't count on Trina's cluelessness. Not any longer. I turned to Trina. "So now I assume we're dead where we stand?"

"Don't be silly, Veronica," Trina. "I don't want to get blood all over the floor. Besides, I might want to use this place again at some point."

"Right. You're a hunter."

"And a very good one," Trina said.

"You didn't hit Mom once," Logan said.

"Yes," Trina said, "I didn't. I wonder why that is." At this point, so did I. "Oh well," Trina said. "I guess it's time to get this overwith. Logan, if you'd please untie your mother, we're all going to go for a walk in the woods." With any luck, a mountain lion would eat her.

Lynn stood up awkwardly, glaring at Trina. "Why are you doing this?"

"You know me," Trina said. "I'm all about the drama. Now --" she gestured with the rifle for us all to walk out the back door.

I went first, then Logan, then Lynn. Finally, Trina

And that's when our rescuer charged in.

The last person anyone would have ever suspected of being an action hero took down Trina Echolls with a flying tackle. The rifle fell free. Logan scrambled for it and picked it up, aiming it in the general direction of the scrum. "Trina!" he yelled.

Trina and our rescuer looked up and, I guess, this is when Trina realized she'd been caught. The two pulled free of each other. "Stay down," Logan said as I leaned down and, right arm only, pulled our rescuer upright.

"Thank you," I said.

And the last action hero smiled. "I'm just glad I got here in time, Veronica," Mac said.

"Damn it!" Trina said. "It was supposed to end, but not like this!"

"I know," Logan said, "It was supposed to end with everyone dead."

Trina shook her head. "No! It was supposed to end with a big dramatic rescue by her father or the Sheriff's Department! Not . . . taken down by a computer geek. No offense."

Mac muttered sarcastically, "Offense taken."

"Not how it was supposed to end?" I asked incredulously.

"You didn't think I really was trying to kill Lynn, do you? I missed three times." Wordlessly, I pointed to my left shoulder. "Okay," she said, rolling her eyes. "I missed _Lynn_ three times. I wasn't trying to hit you, either. I really am sorry about that. But I'm a hunter."

"I'd assumed you were just a lousy one," Logan said angrily. "Now what? You're going to say you _weren't_ trying to kill my mother when you nearly killed my girlfriend?"

Trina actually smiled. "Logan. Of course not."

"Just shut up, Trina," I said.

"Veronica --"

I'd had it. Everything I'd been holding back -- through Clarence Weidman's blackmail; through the combined efforts of the Casablancas brothers to ruin my life; through Aaron Echolls' murder of my best friend; through all of it, the frustrations of an entire year, poured out of me at that moment. I went over there and hit her as hard as I could in the face. "I said, _shut up_. You wanted someone to catch you. I guess if Logan and I hadn't come roaring up Lynn would have made a miraculous last-second escape. So: you shot me, shot at your stepmother, kidnapped her and scared the hell out of everyone just to _satisfy your_ _fucking sense of drama_?"

She looked up at me and, unbelievably, smiled again. "I guess that'll all come out at the trial, won't it?"

I hit her again. And then a third time.

When I drew back my hand for a fourth time, a voice said, "Veronica! That's enough."

"It's not enough!" I said. "It's not enough!"

My father grabbed my arm. "Yes," he said. "It is."

I turned and said, "It's not!" I said. "It's not, it's not . . ."

And for a while the only sound outside the Echolls hunting lodge was that of me crying.


	64. Chapter 64

The aftermath.

And a fair warning: Some of you have said you'll cry when it ends.

You may want to prepare to cry sometime soon. Not right away, though.

Disclaimer: 'tain't mine.

X X X X X

When I pulled clear of my father's grip, Logan handed him the rifle and came over and swept me up in a hug of his own. My father went over to Mac and whispered something in her ear, then handed her the rifle. With an expression born of long practice, she turned and aimed it in Trina's general direction.

When the hell did Mac learn how to hold a rifle?

In the meantime, Dad went over to examine the condition of Lynn Echolls, who was standing there with a stunned look on her face. I couldn't remember if she'd said anything since she had the gag removed. Fortunately, she didn't seem badly injured, apart from a few scrapes and cuts and one bump on the head. The entire time Dad looked her over, she didn't say anything.

Trina had a nosebleed from where I'd hit her, and the makings of a lovely black eye, but no one was making any effort to clean her up. Fortunately for her, she didn't say anything else. I was still ready to go over there and deck her again.

When Logan let me go, I had cried myself out. Then I looked up and saw the anger still in his eyes, and this time I hugged him.

"What was that for?" he murmured quietly.

"Because I'm not the only one who's gone through a whole lot today," I said.

He smiled when he looked down at me. "No, you're not," he said, "But it's not like there's any kind of competition."

"Go check on your mother," I said, and went over to Mac.

"Look at the action hero," I said.

"Shut up," was her response. But she was grinning as she said it.

"So, you. Rifles. New thing or is there just a part of you we know nothing about?"

"The benefits of growing up a MacKenzie. My parents insisted I know how to use one of these things."

"Your father's a hunter, too?"

She said, "Of course. But he knows how much I hate it, so he doesn't bring anything home and he doesn't go bragging about his kills in front of me." Grinning for a second, she said, "That doesn't mean we don't have long arguments about it, of course."

"Of course," I said.

And then Dad was done and came over and took the rifle away from Mac. Mac looked at me and said, "I guess this means a hug?"

"Damn right, hug. I hug people who save my life." And so I did. When we were done I said, "I can't believe you tackled her like that."

"You do what you have to, Veronica," she said. "If there'd been a way to knock the rifle out of her hands using only my laptop, I would have done it. But my options here were kind of limited." After a second, "I'm just glad Logan caught me before I came driving all the way up."

"Huh?" was my intelligent response.

"Logan. As I came up the road to the lodge, I saw him come running up to his parked X-Terra. He gave me a quick summary of what was going on and told me to get into his backseat."

"You were in the SUV when he drove up?"

"Yeah. That's why he parked where he did, so I could get out of the car without anyone inside noticing what was going on." For a second I couldn't believe that Logan hadn't found some way of letting me know; then I remembered that I hadn't been able to clue him in to the fact that Dad and the Sheriff's Department were on their way, either. Anyway, this explained why Logan hadn't been able to "reach" Mac; he hadn't needed to try.

"Well, you did great for your first foray into the exciting world of action-adventure."

"First and last, I hope," Mac said.

"Naaah," I said. "You've got a taste for it now."

She gave me a look of undisguised horror. "Don't make me sorry I did this, Mars."

I laughed and said, "I know when to back off. Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to make a couple of phone calls." Then I went inside where Trina had dropped our phones.

First I called Wallace. "Veronica!" he said. "Man, it's good to hear your voice."

"Thanks. And thanks for calling my Dad, too. He almost got here in time."

"Almost?" Yeah, I could have phrased that better.

"Sorry. He would have, but Mac got here first." And anyway, Trina hadn't actually been planning on killing anyone

"Mac saved you?"

"Much in the fashion of Arnold Schwarzenegger. Took Trina with a flying tackle that Ray Lewis would've envied."

"Go, her."

"Oh, yeah. Anyway. Good going, Wallace. I knew you were smart enough to figure it out."

"Just glad I could help."

"I owe you big-time."

"No, you don't."

"Yes. I do."

Next on my list: Duncan and Meg: "Veronica?" Meg said. "Logan said you were still looking. We're over here by –"

"Never mind, Meg," I said. "Logan was forced to do that because of the rifle pointed at him. Sorry we couldn't let you know what had happened."

"Is everything okay?"

"Everything's fine. Mac and Dad got here in time; and anyway, Trina was simply suffering from a major case of dramaqueenism. She wanted to get caught."

"She wanted the publicity," Meg said.

"Exactly. But it's not like this is going to help her acting career any –"

Meg said, "She's not doing this for her acting career. She's doing this for her father."

"Say what?"

"Think about it, Veronica," Meg said. "Now she has a _major_ public forum. She can get books written and movies made and all of that, all saying what a great guy Aaron Echolls was. Trina probably doesn't think there's any such thing as bad publicity. A big showy public trial, she pleads guilty at the end, and she gets to spout off about how Lynn's theories are such crap along the way."

"My god." Trina Echolls was, in her own way, as much of a monster as her father had ever been. She just showed it differently. She might not have been trying to kill anyone – I wasn't quite sure I believed her, there – but she'd been perfectly willing to hit me with a stray bullet. And, knowing Trina, she honestly meant it when she said she was sorry I'd been hit.

Welcome to Neptune. The town with maybe ten, twelve residents tops who didn't constantly redefine the word "twisted."

"It makes sense, right?"

"Right," I said. "Good thinking, Meg."

"Thanks!" I could practically hear her grin, "So, you don't need Duncan and me anymore?"

"Not at the moment. Thanks for all your help."

"Anytime, Ronniekins."

I winced but hung up.

And now for door number three . . .

"Weevil."

"V. What's going on?"

"What's going on is that the story I told you earlier was a lie to avoid being shot."

"Damn. Sorry I didn't pick up on it."

"No problem. I don't expect you to be a mindreader." After a second. "Anyway, there are bigger problems."

"Yeah? Like?"

"Like your boy Armando."

"What about him?'

"He decided playing both sides was a good way to get some extra spending money." I explained exactly what Armando had done."

"He better be on the way to Kansas City by now," Weevil said. "'cause if I catch him he's a dead man."

"Change dead to 'beaten within an inch of his life' and you'll get no argument from me," I said.

"Still lookin' out for me, V?"

"We look out for each other, Weevil."

He laughed. "Yeah, we do, don't we. Okay, you got a deal. No death. Maybe dismemberment."

"Dismemberment it is."

As I hung up, I heard Dad's voice saying, "Dismemberment for who?"

I briefly debated making something up, then decided just to tell him the truth. "Armando. One of Weevil's gang. Doublecrossed Logan and me by calling Trina and telling her we were coming."

"Veronica, if Eli's actually going to dismember him –"

"Dad," I said, "For all Armando knew when he called Trina she was going to kill us. He took a thousand dollars and sent us off to a crazy woman with a rifle. I honestly don't give a damn if Weevil ties him up, puts him in a sack and throws him into the Pacific Ocean, except that I don't want Weevil going to jail for it. I'm not going to do anything to protect him."

Something in my expression must have told Dad that this was something I wasn't going to argue about, because he said, "Fine. We'll talk about it later." Not unless you tie me to a chair or trap me in a stalled elevator.

"I also called Wallace, Meg and Duncan and thanked them," I said. "Meg thinks that not only did Trina do this just for the _publicity_, but so that she could get Aaron's story to a wider audience." I frowned. "Who's holding the gun on her?"

"Mac, again. Lynn still seems to be stunned, so Logan's comforting her." He shook his head. "You think you know some people. I would have sworn Trina Echolls was basically harmless."

I looked up at him. "You too, huh?"

We went outside and Dad relieved Mac. "You know," Trina said. "I'm really not going to go anywhere. I've already got what I wanted."

"Trina," my father said. "I believe my daughter told you to shut up."

"What are you going to do? Shoot me?"

In the coldest voice I'd ever heard him use, Dad said, "Don't tempt me."

Right then, the Balboa County Sheriff's Department came up. Lamb made a beeline for my father. If he said one thing –

He didn't. All he said was, "Keith. What the hell happened here?" Deputy Leo took the rifle from my father's hands while a paramedic went over to check on Lynn Echolls.

"Ask Veronica," Dad said.

Lamb looked at me. I braced myself for the usual disdain and was surprised to hear him say, "Okay, Veronica. What happened?" in a tone completely void of its usual contempt. Either something about this shook him badly, or Dad had threatened to dismember _him_ if he said anything nasty to me.

Either way, it threw me for a second. "Do you want my reasoning or just what went on today?"

"What happened today will be good for now," he said. "We can get to your reasoning later." He pointed to Sacks, who was putting the rifle in an evidence bag, and Lynn Echolls. "If we need it."

"You might," I said. "Anyway . . ." and I went on to explain the events of the day, from the time I figured out it might be Trina until the time action hero Mac wrestled Trina to the ground. "You'll probably get more out of Lynn Echolls, though."

"We're waiting on her," Lamb said. "She seems to have had a rougher time of this than you have." In the background, Deputy Leo was handcuffing a still-smiling Trina. "But we're going to need your testimony, too," he said. "This one I'm going to get right." He laughed bitterly. "I'm tired of being so publicly wrong so often."

I'd been handed the straight line of a lifetime, and I couldn't take full advantage of it. "Don't worry. This time the Mars family agrees with you."

Lamb shot me an aggrieved look, but all he said was, "That should help." Then he walked off to talk to Logan and Mac about their role in the days' events.

"Look at her," I said. Fortunately, Dad knew what her I was referring to. "She's actually smiling. Somehow, in her head, this all worked out perfectly -- well, except for the part where Mac the 'computer geek' came to our rescue rather than you. But I'm sure in her head she's rewriting the script already."

"Well, it won't have a happy ending," Dad said.

"That's the problem, Dad," I said. "For her, it already has."


	65. Chapter 65

This is, I suspect, the penultimate part. There may be a sequel if you ask me nicely and send me bribes.

X X X X X

We went up to Lamb after he'd talked to Logan and Mac and asked him if he needed anything else from us at the moment.

"Not right now," he said. "Eventually I'm going to need a full statement -- including how you figured out that it was Trina Echolls. But for right now we've got her on one count of kidnapping and two counts of attempted murder, plus whatever else we can think to throw at her."

"I'll help you with that if you want," Dad said, deadly serious.

"I may take you up on that," Lamb said. "I don't want this one getting away."

"I don't think she wants to," I said.

Lamb actually snorted. "Yeah. It was like she was happy we caught her." He circled his right index finger close to his temple. "Some people."

I couldn't disagree.

Looking at Dad, I said, "I need to go talk to Logan and Mac for a second."

"I'll be in the car when you're ready," Dad said.

Logan said as I came up to him, "You're riding back with your father?"

"Yeah," I said. "I figure you'll have your hands full with Lynn."

"Two emotional shocks like this in a few months," he said. "She'll be fine. But she's not fine right now." Then he said, "Dammit!" loudly. "I should have seen it coming."

"I don't think anyone could have seen this coming," I said.

"I should have," he said. "I may not have always been Trina's best friend, but I really thought I knew her better than anyone." He laughed bitterly. "Hell, even Daddy Dearest, in his quest for good publicity, wouldn't have done something like this."

"Aaron Echolls not being a good father. Who would have imagined it?"

Another bitter laugh. "You're wrong, there. Trina was the only one of us he ever did really seem to love. I told you he never hit her. But he always treated her like the true child and me like the bastard afterthought."

"And you grew up as someone who protects people," I said. "And Trina grew up as someone who thinks taking potshots at her stepmother is a good way to get people to listen to her. I never said Aaron, in his own way, didn't love Trina; he just taught her the wrong lessons, and never told her where and when to stop."

I reached over and hugged him. "I'll call you later, okay? And tell Lynn I'll talk to her whenever she's up to it. And -- and that I'm really sorry I didn't figure this out earlier."

"I don't think she's going to blame you," Logan said.

"I don't either. But I'm still sorry."

With another promise to call later, I went over to Mac.

"Hey, action hero," I said.

"Hey. I think I'm pretty much done here for the moment."

"I understand," I said. "Some madman's probably threatening to blow up the Eiffel Tower."

"Actually, they're planning a big heist at the world headquarters of Deutschebank," she replied, equally deadpan.

"I see. And you have to stop it."

"Stop it? Hell, no. I'm joining in."

I laughed. "Of course you are. Just wanted to touch base before you left. And thank you again."

"No more hugs," Mac said.

"No, no more hugs," I said. "I'll call you later, okay?"

And that was more or less that. For the moment, anyway.

X X X X X

When I got into Dad's car, I closed my eyes as he got in. "Lay it on me," I said.

"Lay what on you?"

"About how dangerous this is, and I could have gotten myself killed . . ."

"Do you think so little of me that you think I'd do that now?" he asked. "Veronica, after what happened today the last think you need is me giving you a hard time." After a second, "Besides, by and large you did very well. Any criticisms I do have can wait until later."

"Thanks," I said.

"How's your shoulder?"

"Fine," I said. "Oddly enough. I didn't strain it once and Trina never tied me up or even poked me with the rifle."

"That's good," he said. "You didn't look like you were in pain, but --"

"Trust me, Dad," I said. "If my shoulder were hurting right now I'd be screaming. I've had a very bad last few weeks -- not as bad as Lynn --"

Dad interrupted. "There's a proverb I've always hated," he said. "It goes, 'I wept because I had no shoes until I met a man who had no feet.' At first, yeah, it sounds like a good reason to buck up and quit complaining because other people have it worse. But think about it, sweetie: literally this would mean that the only person in the whole world who was allowed to complain about anything would be the person who was absolutely the worst off. Which is ridiculous on the face of it. Just because there are other people who have no feet doesn't put shoes on yours. It's not like you're weeping because you had a hangnail. You _have_ had a lousy last few weeks. And a lousy last few months. And a lousy year. You're entitled to feel sorry for yourself on occasion. Good things have happened to you as well, though."

Logan. Catching my "rapist," Duncan, and my actual rapist, Cassidy. Finding out that Meg had been right: I have friends. Figuring out who'd killed Lilly. Yeah, a lot had gone well as well.

Didn't make me feel a whole lot better at the moment. And I was glad that Dad was trying to stop me from feeling guilty about that. "Thanks, Dad," I said. "I've had a bad last few weeks. My emotional control is kind of shot at the moment."

"So I saw," Dad said. "I don't think I've ever seen you get violent. You didn't even get violent with Cassidy Casablancas. Or Dick Casablancas, for that matter." He shook head. "All I could think when I saw you hit her like that, not once but three times, was how frustrated you must have been. How much pain everything has caused you. I thought I knew all of that before tonight," he said. "Now, I think I really do. You weren't just expressing how angry you were at Trina. You were expressing how angry you were at the entire world."

The world doesn't need more psychiatrists; it needs more people like my father. "Pretty much," I said. "But I think the world is safe for the moment."

He laughed. "For the moment, huh?"

"I make no guarantees."

"So . . . straight home and right to bed?"

"Toss in some food and you've got yourself a deal," I said. "I think I'll be able to sleep for a week."

"Are you going to take off school tomorrow?"

"Probably not," I said. "That's where my friends are."

X X X X X

I had a Lilly dream that night. She was sitting on the edge of my bed.

"So, I hear you got shot," she said.

"You're a little behind the times," I said. "Got shot, caught the person who did it, and maybe. just maybe, we've done enough to put your 'restless shade' to rest."

She laughed. "I'm still here walking the Earth, aren't I, Veronica Mars?"

"Not walking so much as sitting."

"Well, you have a small room," she said. "I try to walk too much and I'll wind up smashing my fabulous self into a wall."

"Can't you walk through them?"

She got a questioning look on her face. "You know, I've never tried," she said. She strode confidently forward . . .

And smashed right into the wall.

I couldn't help myself; I laughed. She turned at me and glowered before she said, "It's a good thing for you that I'm dead, Veronica Mars. Because otherwise I would so kick your ass about now."

I kept laughing.

"Anyway," she said, her voice suddenly serious for a second, "Just wanted to be sure you were okay. After everything that's happened."

"I think I will be," I said.

"That's good. Because I do worry about you, you know. You go from valley to peak to valley again."

"That's the story of my life ever since --"

"Ever since Aaron Echolls bashed my skull in?" she said brightly.

I realized something. "That's the first time you've ever said that he did it."

"I wonder why that is?"

"So, no easy answers?"

"Veronica, you know better than that."

"I miss you, Lilly."

"I miss you too, Veronica. Now go back out there and kick some ass." She hesitated. "You know, it's been a metaphor in your head ever since Aaron croaked -- that death became him. Made him look better, like a martyred hunky movie star instead of the killer he was."

"Yeah. And Trina --"

She snorted. "Trina. Trina's always been out to make sure of that."

"I've done all I can, there."

Lilly said, "No, you haven't. Use her weapons against her." She laughed. "Fire with fire, Veronica Mars."

And then I woke up.

This was another dream that meant something, like "she came back wrong."

Only I was fairly sure I knew what this one meant.

X X X X X

The next morning, I asked Dad if Trina's arrest had made the news.

"It has," he said. "Lamb's issued a brief statement confirming the arrest, but that's about it."

I blinked. "Wow," I said. "Under the circumstances I would have expected him to be damn near throwing a parade."

"I may have talked with him last night and indicated that a lot of press was what Trina wanted," Dad said. "He wanted to trumpet the arrest to the high heavens but I managed to convince him that another case where someone else figured it out before him might not be what he wanted to be trumpeting. This way he gets to take the credit for arresting the person for a while."

"Did he have any clue?"

"If you believe him, once Dick Casablancas was eliminated, he actually did figure out that the person might have been shooting at someone else on the platform. Trina was on his list of 'possible suspects.'"

"Do you believe him?"

"I don't see what he's got to gain by lying," Dad said, shrugging. "And given the number of people who got there before he did it's not like he'd be able to successfully lie about it."

"True," I said. Then, "Dad, I have a favor to ask you."

"What is it, sweetie?"

I explained what I wanted him to do. He seemed dubious. "Are you sure?"

"It's the exact opposite of how we've been doing it all along," I said. "But I think it could do some good. Call it a pre-emptive strike."

"I'll do what I can," he said.

Mac picked me up for school that morning; I called her "action hero" until she begged me to stop.

Then I explained to her what I was doing.

"I'll be there," she said.

Wallace, Meg, and Duncan also agreed. I called Logan, who'd taken the day off, and he said he'd be there as well. And so would Lynn.

"What? Logan, I can't ask her . . ."

"You're not asking her. She's volunteering."

"Are you sure she's up for this?"

"She's sure."

The only one who said no was Weevil. "Not because I don't want to be there for you, V; just that it's a little too public for me. But I'll be in the audience if you want."

"I do. Thanks." After a second. "Seen Armando recently?"

"Yeah; ran into him late last night."

"And?"

"I just told you; I ran into him." Oh.

After school came quickly. Dad had it all set up.

I looked back at my friends, my father, and Lynn Echolls, all standing behind me.

Then I took a step forward and looked at the people out in the crowd, all focused on me.

_Fire with fire._

Trina seemed to think there was no such thing as bad publicity. I was about to do my damnedest to prove her wrong.

"Thanks for coming today," I said, kicking off my press conference. "My name is Veronica Mars . . ."


	66. Chapter 66

Author's note: Penultimate means "next to last."

_This_ chapter – an epilogue, which is why it's a bit on the short side -- is the last one. If there's enough acclamation, I may get to work on a sequel. But I have a couple of other ideas I want to hash out first. (Would anyone hate a Buffy/VM crossover?)

Thanks, thanks, thanks, to all the reviewers. Everyone, from those of you who've been with me since this thing started to those who happened in later. (It's a massive ego boost to have someone say they 'found my story and couldn't stop reading it.' That's happened more than once, which is unbelievable to me.)

And yes, I know I'm evil.

Disclaimer: Oh, come on. Does anyone really think I own this after 66 chapters?

X X X X X

The press conference went as well as I could have expected. I spent about twenty minutes detailing exactly what had happened, up to and including my speculation – and I was _very_ careful to call it speculation – on Trina's motives.

The first question I got was a smart one. "So if you think she wants publicity, why are you giving it to her?"

"Pre-emptive strike," I said. "This way if she ever gets to talk publicly about matters other than _her_ crimes –"

"Such as her father's alleged murder of your friend Lilly Kane?" another reporter asked. Duncan winced at that.

"Such as," I responded. "And there was nothing alleged about it. I know my slander law; Aaron's dead. I can flat out call him what he was: a murdering, adulterous psychopath. You can too, by the way." A brief current of laughter from the reporters. "In any event, this way everyone will know her for what she is: someone out for publicity. You'll probably still interview her, but I'm hoping hype is a lot more obvious when you know it's coming."

Another half hour like that and I was done. When I stepped back from the microphone I practically collapsed; Logan caught me.

"You did well," Lynn murmured.

"Oh yeah," Wallace said.

"I wanted to flatten the guy who said that Lilly was allegedly murdered," Duncan said.

"So did I," I said. "But I don't think that would have gone over so well. Thanks for being here with me. It meant a lot."

Mac said, "If you try to hug me I'll break your arm."

"Wasn't planning on it," I said.

"Good."

That weekend, Lynn went to LA to talk to a lawyer, her agent, and a lot of other people. Trina's actions had hit her hard, but she was one resilient woman. She told Logan that the house was all his for the weekend.

How odd is it to have a parent who not only approves of your sex life, but connives in you getting one?

Scratch that question. I'm not sure I want to know the answer.

We made sure Dad knew Mac and Wallace were going to be there, too. We didn't stress that they were going to be there long enough for a nice long lunch and a couple of relaxing rounds of whatever the latest fighting game was to come down the pike. No, Logan and Mac weren't done with _Cybermage_; but Mac knew that today wasn't primarily about her quest to destroy Logan Echolls in every video game known to mankind.

Didn't mean she wasn't going to kick his ass today, though, she told me.

Three Cho's pizzas and assorted ass-kickings later, Wallace and Mac both left.

Which left Logan and me with a whole mansion and our imagination.

It started with kissing and worked its way from there throughout the building.

We skipped two rooms: Trina's and the trophy room. Trina's door was closed, anyway.

Beyond that –

Well, let's just say that there were very few surfaces of that house that couldn't have stood a thorough cleaning by the time we were done. If I thought Logan and I had explored each other previously –

Well, we found a whole lot of new territory that day.

And by the time we were done, I think every part of my body ached except my left shoulder.

But it was a good kind of ache.

And if I couldn't walk, I knew damn well Logan couldn't.

We kind of spent the entire rest of the weekend like that.

I loved him. Really. And he loved me.

And if you'd told me _that_ at the beginning of the year, I would have taken steps to have you locked up in the nearest psych ward.

Interesting how things can turn out, sometimes.

X X X X X

And what else happened?

Well, the thing is, life isn't like a story. Things don't always tie up in neat little bows at the end. Clarence Weidman is still out there, working for Kane software. I haven't forgotten my promise to Mom that he _would _pay for what he did, but so far, my vow seems to be a vain one.

Speaking of: Mom's still in the coma. Dad's dancing around the subject of whether or not it's irreversible. I think he's trying to spare my feelings. I appreciate it, really, I do. But I've resigned myself to her never waking up.

What does that mean?

I'm not sure. I've always been in favor of being able to pull the plug, but there's a whole hell of a lot of difference between 'in theory' and "your own mother.' Does that make me a hypocrite?

I don't think so. Of course, as recent events have indicated, I'm not exactly the best judge of character.

And Meg still hasn't been able to bring herself to deal with her parents. She did do well on her next case, though; a junior named Carmen's boyfriend, Tad had been threatening to blackmail her with an explicit video taken at Shelly Pomroy's party – saying he'd ruin her reputation if she didn't go out with him.

See, I would have come up with some kind of elaborate scheme involving Mutual Assured Destruction, setting up a way to blackmail Tad in return. Meg didn't bother with any of that. She simply went directly to Weevil Navarro and mentioned what was going on.

"So you'll beat me up if I release the tape," Tad said. "If she doesn't go out with me, I'll just wait until I'm out of your range. Then I'll post it all over the damn internet."

"Never planning to come back to town then, are you?" Meg said.

Weevil added, "'cause me and mine, we got long memories. And don't you got family around here?"

"You touch them and I'll –"

"You'll what?" Weevil said. "Stay out of town to cover yourself 'cause you've ruined the rep of a good _chica_ whose only mistake was to date a punkass like you?"

"I love her!" Tad said.

"This kind of love is called 'stalking," Meg said.

Tad looked at them and said, "You don't understand," and fled.

The last I'd heard, he hadn't posted the video on the internet. Meg hired Mac to let her know if someone tried, and so far, nothing. So I guess Meg's approach worked.

Which I'm thrilled about, believe me. Hercule Poirot and Jim Rockford may have had vastly different ways of solving crimes, but the important thing is, they both worked.

There has been a bit of good news, though. Just because not everything ends doesn't mean nothing does.

Jake Kane pleaded guilty to obstruction of justice in the investigation into Lilly's murder. He got thirty days in a country club prison, two years' probation, and a fine, so not a whole lot of justice going on there; but the important thing is, _he pleaded guilty_. That blot will always be on his reputation – that he tried to cover up a murder, even if he was doing it from what he thought were good motives.

From that cover up sprang most of me and Dad's troubles over the last year and a half. If Jake Kane hadn't been so desperately trying to protect Duncan from the consequences of something Duncan didn't do, then Dad would still be Sheriff, Mom would still be conscious, I wouldn't have gone to Shelly Pomroy's party as a complete social outcast and maybe Cassidy wouldn't have gotten the chance to rape me; and Trina wouldn't have taken shots at me and Lynn because she was trying to protect the reputation of a man who was not even _close_ to being worth protecting.

Woulda, coulda, shoulda. That ship has, unfortunately, long since sailed. But at least Jake's taking some kind of public hit for it. No matter how small.

Speaking of people taking public hits: Dick Casablancas finally gave up and pleaded guilty to one count of false imprisonment. He got a five year suspended sentence, with all but three months suspended. His restraining order forbidding him from coming within fifty feet of me was made permanent, and the judge told them that there would not be any allowances made for us being in the same school. This meant, essentially, that he would have to go to a private school for his senior year. Not that I was crying over that one.

I never received a thank-you note for getting him off the charge of murder. Possibly my insistence that he sign that contract had something to do with that.

Hamilton Cho has increased his lead in the year's GPA over Sabrina Fuller by a couple of more percentage points. It's still anyone's scholarship to win, but if I were a betting woman I'd bet that Hamilton, this time next year, will be at Oxford. I actually have nothing against Sabrina Fuller – but she doesn't need the scholarship. Hamilton does. And he deserves it.

And my shoulder slowly healed. By the time of my next was still sore, tender, and hurt if I moved it too quickly or used the arm to carry too much, but I didn't need the prescription pain medication and so I no longer needed to rely on my friends to take me places.

That's right: Veronica Mars is back in the land of the mobile.

And the automobile.

One more thing: The Neptune County Sheriff's Office issued a statement that, in their opinion, Aaron Echolls had murdered Lilly Kane, and that as far as they were concerned that case was closed.

Death did _not_ become him.

X X X X X

A week after my press conference, I found a note taped to my locker. "Journalism room," it said. "After school."

I was curious, so when the time came I showed up. The door was pulled mostly shut, so I knocked on it.

The person inside came over and, grinning nervously, said, "I was hoping it would be you."


End file.
